


The Gospel of Mark

by bunting (caramels)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramels/pseuds/bunting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's always been guided down the religious path, but when he falls in with rough around the edges Jackson he begins to experience a new way of life. College AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Book 1:1

**Author's Note:**

> This story can also be found on aff under this same username. It will be updated there first. Also, this story is probably anywhere from PG-13 to rated R for some sexual situations currently. There will be NC-17 in the future, just to warn you god fearing folk ;)

 

 

“You play funny.”

Mark wipes his wet fingers on his pants. “What?” He’s only seven, he doesn’t get why he has to keep wiping his hands on a rag every time he eats watermelon.

His dad’s friend’s son points at him and laughs, speaking rapidly in Cantonese, a language Mark doesn’t understand. Mark picks up his toy dinosaur again, making it lunge for the stegosaurus to take out his annoyance. Dinosaurs aren’t allowed on Noah’s arc.

“That isn’t very nice Jackson,” the boy’s mom scolds. “Say you’re sorry to Mark in English.”

Jackson’s face scrunches together, “Sorry.” Mark doesn’t think he’s very sorry at all. He runs off to play with the other kids, leaving Mark alone with his dinosaurs. It’s okay; Jackson didn’t understand how to play anyway.

He doesn’t need him even if he’s cute.

Later on when Jackson comes back with a peace offering of a chocolate chip cookie, Mark takes it only because he likes cookies. “Do you want to play house with us?” Jackson turns and points at the small group of kids playing with the play kitchen set. He turns his thumb in and points at his chest, “I’m the dad.”

Mark drops his plastic dinosaur and nods his head. He follows Jackson to the group of kids, sitting down on the small table and chairs.

One of the girls with her hair in pigtails hands him a plastic cup, “Here you go!” She has a thick beaded necklace on, “I’m the cook, who do you want to be?”

Mark swings his legs back and forth and smiles, twisting his hands in his lap. “I want to be a pastor!”

She tilts her head, “A what? I don’t know what that is. You can be the son okay?”

Mark sucks on his bottom lip; he wants to be the pastor, not the son.

Out of nowhere, Jackson puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder, “Mark’s gonna be my wife because I like him!”

“He can’t be the mommy he’s a boy,” the girl argues, “ask someone else.”

Jackson holds his ground, “How come?” He pats Mark’s shoulder, “You want to be the mom right?”

Sullen, Mark plays with the plastic cup. “I don’t care.” He doesn’t get to be the pastor, so he doesn’t care what dumb game they’re playing.

“Then he’s going to have to wear a dress and makeup.”

In the end, Mark found out that it would have been better to be the son after the two girls smeared stuff over his lips and put a tiara on his head. But, he did get to hold Jackson hand through it all, so it was okay.

But next time he’ll be the pastor just like his dad and Jackson can be one too.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

_Years later_

“Mark, you’re a really great theology student. Your last paper was very thoughtful and well researched.”

Mark beams, he might not have the best GPA, but he’s always excelled in his theology classes. He spent a lot of time in the library pouring over yellowing books to read multiple analyzes of the Bible verse he chose to study.

“You should sign up for my theology of violence and nonviolence course next fall, I think it would be a good match for you. How are you doing on your other classes this semester?” Mark’s professor and major advisor flips through Mark’s requested list of classes for the next school year.

“I’m hanging in there,” Mark says, stumbling over his words. He’s afraid he won’t get a B in his biology class even though it’s biology for non-science majors. “I hope to get my grades up by finals.”

His professor nods his head after signing off on Mark’s advising sheet, “You can go to the office of educational services for tutoring if you’re stuck. You’ve got a lot of potential Mark, I don’t want to see you fall behind.”

The scribble of pen writing against paper is comforting, as Mark knows there’s the start of another semester to begin fresh. “I’ll check into them.”

His professor hands him back the sheet he just signed, and Mark takes it with both hands.

“Have you thought any more on what you’d like to do after graduating? Let’s not take graduate school off the table just yet even though you’re just a sophomore right now.”

“Umm…” Mark freezes and crinkles the paper in his lap. As much as graduate school sounds good, Mark knows he just isn’t smart enough to get through another two years of college and research. He’ll be good enough to just make it through the next two years. “I was thinking about going into the church.”

“That’s a big decision to make, but I think you would do well. Your dad is a pastor if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yeah.”

“You still have a few years to think about these things, so keep thinking about it and talk to your dad. I’m sure he can help you make a decision,” says his professor. “Well Mark, I’ll see you in class next Tuesday.”

Mark stands, “Yes, see you then.”

When he’s walking out of his professor’s office, Mark wonders why he always freezes up when asked what he wants to do in the future. He’s just always felt like he’ll go into the church even though none of his older siblings have gone the same path and his parents don’t mind it at all.

Since he was young, he’s always thought he’s going to be the best pastor ever.  
That’s just how things are going to be. 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Half a year later and Mark still doesn’t have a solid answer about what he’s going to do come senior year. Thankfully, he’s got time to think things through and has all the time in the world to avoid his problems right now.

With Christmas drawing nearer, the season for giving and sharing is in the air and apparently it’s also the season for having dinner with people Mark hasn’t seen in years. His parent’s friends moved back to America from Hong Kong a few years after their son decided to go to college here. Now that they’re back, a long overdue welcoming dinner has been arranged.

Unhappy, Mark has about an hours worth of textbook reading to go back to after this outing. School finals are almost here and Mark needs to study if he wants to pass the first semester of his junior year.

He already has to retake biology to make up for his horrible grade the first time.

Mark’s uncomfortable in his shirt and tie for once, the room he’s in feels too stuffy even if his family is there. His parent’s friend’s son keeps staring at him with a weird expression on his face and it makes looking to his left awkward. Why does he keep staring at him doesn’t he know it’s creepy?

“Mark, you remember Jackson don’t you?” Mrs. Wang asks, “You two used to play together when you were kids. I’ve got some really cute pictures somewhere of you two.”

“Uh…” Mark takes a quick glance at Jackson, “a little.” He has some fuzzy recollections of Jackson’s family before they went back to live in Hong Kong. What he does remember of Jackson is few and far between of an actual memory.

“Ah I see, well you know Jackson goes to the same college as you so I was wondering if you ever met up before.”

Yes, Mark knows that his parent’s friend’s son went to the same college as him, but the school is big and they’ve never run into each other. At least, he doesn’t think they have. Then again, judging by Jackson’s look they don’t exactly run in the same crowd.

Mark’s friends are more the laidback gamer decent academic kids while Jackson looks like he probably spends more time out of class than in it. Not that Mark cares who Jackson is or what he does with his life at the moment.

He needs to get through this dinner and finish his Korean worksheet so he can play on his Playstation for two hours.

“I don’t think we’ve met…since then,” Mark says, swirling his fork around a section of his pasta.

Jackson interjects, “You’re in Korean right? I’ve seen you at language meetings.”

“Yeah.”

“We must have just missed each other then.” Jackson smiles and Mark relaxes.

The staring must have been because Jackson recognized him from somewhere. Relieved, Mark chews his pasta and nods his head at Jackson’s mom’s suggestion that they meet up and practice their Korean. Sure they’ll do that of course not. The world does not work that way.

When they’re finishing up dinner, chairs scraping across the tan carpet, someone pats Mark on the back. He looks to the side and sees Jackson standing next to him.

“What?”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “I’ll see you around campus. Let me know if you want to work on Korean. I’m down with that.”

Pushing his chair in, Mark lingers behind as his family starts to walk away from the table. “Yeah…uh sure…”

“Give me your phone number then old buddy.” Jackson trails behind the group with him, taking his phone out of his pants pocket.

Dumbfounded, Mark rattles off his number without thinking too much. The next thing he knows, his pants are vibrating and his phone is getting a call.

Jackson shakes his phone in his hand, “That’s me, now you have my number.” His dad yells at him to hurry up, they have to get him back before some show they watch airs. “See ya later Mark!”

Mark looks at the one missed call and slips his phone back in his pocket. He can’t really remember what Jackson was like as a kid, but he’s pretty straightforward now.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“So Jenny,” Mark says, palms sweaty, “do you want to maybe go out for coffee sometime?” It’s the last day of classes before finals and it’s now or never. Jenny is really pretty with her short hair and friendly attitude, and she’s always helped Mark with notes for tests.

She doesn’t answer at first, “Like you and me?”

He nods because he isn’t sure what else to say to make the situation better.

“As friends right because I have a boyfriend, but we should definitely talk more you’re a fun guy.” She swings her backpack over his shoulder.

Mark feels like he’s been punched in the gut, “Y-yeah, of course. And same.”

“Okay great,” she says, “facebook me sometime. Oh, and good luck on the final.”

Mark waves as they go their separate ways, her to the library and Mark to another class. He’s reprimanding himself for being so awkward and trying to comfort himself from the crushing defeat of gentle rejection. He has checked her facebook in the past and she isn’t listed as being in a relationship.

The possibility of her lying makes Mark feel even worse. Why is it that he has such bad luck with people? Is there something he’s missing?

He happens to see Jackson on his walk across campus surrounded by a group of friends. They’ve only talked a few times since meeting, but Jackson’s the confident guy that can turn any situation into a positive one. Mark’s jealous, he can’t even get a girl to go to coffee with him and Jackson’s got about five girls hanging around him.

He crosses his arms and stares at the concrete under his feet as he walks. Jackson’s good-looking, funny, and always knows the right thing to say.

Jackson’s the type of guy who people like, no the type they _love _. If he wants to make the best of his college experience and the rest of his life, he’s going to have to become more like Jackson.__

_Heaven help him._

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

A semester later, and Mark falls into the trap that is Jackson after one simple request. _Please show me how to be cool._

“I’m off,” Mark yells, as the front door slams shut behind him, walking down his driveway to the street. He has his backpack strapped tight to his back and his shirt tucked in his pants.

The ground is wet from where it rained the night before, but with the sun out that too would be gone soon. Mark smiles when he sees Jackson standing next to his motorcycle with an extra helmet on the seat.

“Hey Jackson.”

Jackson tilts his head down to peer at him over the top of his sunglasses. “You look like a pansy.”

Mark glances down at his clothes, they seem okay to him. Light blue button down shirt tucked into a pair of jeans held up by a brown belt his grandma gave him for Christmas and his pair of causal light brown loafers. He feels very well put together and he even didn’t have his mom dress him.

“What’s wrong with my clothes? You’re the one wearing a black leather jacket, don’t you know it’s supposed to be hot this afternoon?”

Jackson pushes his sunglasses back up and throws Mark the extra helmet, hitting Mark straight in the chest. “I can take my jacket off but you’re the real deal. Wow. Just, here.” He pulls Mark’s shirt out of his pants. “Okay now I can be seen with you.”

“What was wrong with it before, it looks better tucked in,” Mark says, snapping the helmet strap under his chin. He waits for Jackson to get on the motorcycle first.

“Did your mom tell you that?” Jackson kicks the kickstand back and slings his leg over the bike. “Mark, I told you not to question these things. I’m your teacher in how to be cool you have to willingly follow me if you want to receive my teachings. Okay now get on.”

Mark maneuvers himself on the back of Jackson’s motorcycle. He finds it awkward riding behind another man since he always thought the he’d be the one driving and there’d be a hot girl behind him. Alas, Jackson won’t even let him think about driving until he’s become cool enough to handle it.

Jackson’s kind of a douche.

Mark’s going to have to say two extra Hail Mary’s later for thinking that.

Jackson does something with the motorcycle that Mark can’t see what with him having limited view in front of him and the engine starts to roar louder than Mark’s used to. The bike inches forward then stops, and Jackson turns his body towards him.

“Rule number one, you’re going to fall off if you don’t hang on.”

“Where am I supposed to put my hands then, there aren’t any handle bars back here.” Mark rubs his fists on his thighs.

“Around my waist.”

Mark’s eyebrows raise, “Like a girl?”

“Do you want to die or are you afraid of touching me because it’s _girly_? I’m offended after all I’m the one taking time out of my busy schedule to –”

Mark wraps his arms around Jackson’s waist if only to shut him up. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Jackson turns back towards the road. “Rule number two, no harassing the driver. Keep your hands out of my pants Mark I know that might be hard since I’m sexy.”

“Can we go? Can we just go now?” Becoming cool is too hard with Jackson a teacher. Mark begins to regret asking him, and all he really knows about Jackson is that he’s the son of a family friend. And that he’s way cooler than Mark and probably has had fifty girl friends already. Mark’s only had one, which ended badly when she dumped him for some guy with a dragon tattoo on his arm because he was too ‘awkward.’

They take off down the street towards wherever Jackson’s taking him to learn the art of the cool kids. Wind rushes past, making Mark’s shirt flap around from where Jackson had to free it from his pants. Riding on the back of a motorcycle is a new experience for Mark, and if he hold on to Jackson’s waist tighter than necessary he’s going to blame his nerves.

Jackson zooms around the street like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He must think he’s some kind of badass at the age of twenty to be driving a motorcycle like he just got his drivers license at age sixteen.

One thing is for sure; Jackson is going to send him to a confessional.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“So why do you _really_ want to be more cool Mark?” Jackson asks, sipping on his iced coffee outside of a local coffee shop. “I mean besides the totally lame get up, you could work that church boy look to your advantage.” He winks.

“Well it hasn’t worked for me in the past,” Mark complains and swirls his own mocha in its cardboard cup. “Everyone thinks I’m too obsessed with Jesus.” Making new friends is difficult.

“Well you kind of are, no offence. Ease up on the god business we’re too young to worry about burning in hell yet.”

Mark frowns, “That’s what I mean. People misinterpret me.” He rubs his eyes to take away some of his tension.

“It’s okay I’m a great teacher I will train out your bad habits. Starting with praying before your meal, we’re eating panda express for god’s sake. I don’t think he meant for us to be eating this. If he did, why does it make us sick?” Jackson raises an eyebrow and lifts up the piece of orange chicken he has speared on a fork.

Mark shrugs and picks up his mocha to take a drink.

“Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a brick wall,” says Jackson, speaking around half chewed food. “At least you’re pretty to look at.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark meets Jackson outside after his class is over, brain jumbled with complicated words he doesn’t quite understand. Somehow he has to pass this class to graduate. The weather is so warm outside today that he even unbuttoned the first two buttons of his grey cardigan.

Jackson’s sitting on a bench, drinking an energy drink, and he’s playing some game on his phone. He looks up as Mark approaches, and Mark begins to wave, but then decides it probably looks stupid and ends up flailing his hand in the air.

He stands in front of Jackson, “What’s up?”

Setting down his phone on his thigh, Jackson fixes his hair in his cap. “You free tonight?”

“Sort of,” Mark says, “my parents were thinking about going out to dinner with some friends from church and I was invited if I want to go.”

“It’s Friday night, you’re not going to spend your Friday night with your parents when you’re in college.” Jackson gives him a blank stare. “You’re coming with me and my friends to our house party.”

“I don’t know your friends and I don’t really drink.”

Jackson puts his phone away in his jacket pocket and stands up. “You’ll know them by the end of the night. You’ve got to experience at least one party before you write them off. And don’t wear your Sunday church get up tonight. Every time I see you, you look like you’re straight out of bible study.”

“I don’t go to bible study I just have a lot of cardigans.” Mark straightens his cardigan from where it’s bunching up under his backpack straps. “You should see my dad’s golfing clothes.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Jackson, shaking his head and rolling his eyes to the side. “I’m going to corrupt you so hard.” He slaps Mark with a loud thud on his back.

Mark makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, “I told you to stop saying that.”

“Say what? Jesus Christ? Jesus Christ Mark.” Jackson laughs, having no regard for saying the Lord’s name in vain. “You need to live a little.”

“I’m live just fine,” says Mark, and he starts to walk away with Jackson following him at his side.

“I’m just teasing you,” – Jackson puts and arm around Mark’s shoulders – “so tonight, I’ll come pick you up around eight.”

“Okay.” Mark bites his bottom lip out of habit. “I’ll tell my parents I’ll be out.”

Jackson pats his shoulder, “Just tell them you’ll be back in the morning because you’re going to be too fucked up to go home.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll tell them exactly that and give them a heart attack.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Jackson and his friends don’t actually live in a house; they live in a three-bedroom apartment that must have been a small fortune to afford. Then again, Jackson’s parents are loaded, so for all Mark knew it could be family property.

The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways.

Jackson coasts his motorcycle down to the apartment building’s older but still functioning parking garage below the building. The stalls are tight to get into, and Mark figures that’s why Jackson has a motorcycle to begin with. Other than the fact that he still probably wants work that badass image.

“Nice place,” Mark says while they take the elevator up to the third floor. Inside, he’s uneasy about going to a party Jackson’s hosting, but he doesn’t want Jackson to see him weak. He silently says a prayer that he makes it out alive (dear Lord, give me the strength to get through tonight).

The elevator doors open with a quiet ding. “Wait until you see the inside,” Jackson says. “It’ll blow your mind. Got a flat screen TV the size of the moon.”

When they get to the door to his apartment, Jackson opens it and yells, “I’m back bitches, you miss me?”

They enter into the apartment; the kitchen off to the left and a wide-open space housing the giant television Jackson was talking about straight ahead.

Mark walks in behind Jackson awkwardly, feeling out of place even though he put on his most normal clothes to come here. Normal compared to Jackson’s basketball shorts over pants and he’s got some kind of jersey for a team Mark’s never heard of on.

One of Jackson’s friends with silvery bleached hair and a beer in his hands takes his slipper off his foot and throws it at Jackson, “No, I was just getting used to you being gone.”

Jackson stops moving forward, hands on his hips, “Okay goodbye, I’m leaving.” He turns around and Mark has to step back to avoid being run into. “I see how it really is. I have new friends now.” He grabs a hold of Mark by his arm, “Let’s go new friend.”

The other slipper is thrown at Jackson, this time hitting his back. “Stop crying. Is this your new guy?”

Jackson turns around and pulls Mark forward. “This is Mark.”

“Hey Mark I’m JB. Jackson’s roommate.”

“Hi.” Mark puts on a polite smile. “Nice to uh…meet you.” JB smiles back at him in return; Jackson’s friends seem to be okay guys so far.

Jackson lets go of Mark to his relief. “He’s a Korean.”

“No shit and you’re _a_ Chinese,” JB says to Jackson, and then he looks Mark in the eyes. “You sure you want to be with this guy?” Mark shrugs, not entirely sure how to answer that question. He hasn’t even made it four steps into Jackson’s apartment yet.

“Hey you know I’m from Hong Kong,” says Jackson. “Anyway, we need to show Mark a good time tonight he doesn’t know how to party.”

JB, retrieving his slippers from where they’d landed, grins. “Well you’ve come to the right place then. Is this one legal here? Wait why am I asking this question, you’re not even legal yet.”

“You’re twenty-one right Mark? I’m almost twenty-one, my birthday’s two weeks away.” Jackson looks to Mark, who is staring around the room, taking in the various sports posters and huge brown sofa over top a brown rug.

“Yeah, I’m twenty-one.” Mark steps to the side, but Jackson pulls him back by putting his arm around his shoulders again, which Mark finds awkward because Jackson is shorter than him.

“Okay, first things first. Let me introduce you to my good friends Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, and Patrón.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark figures that something bad is going to happen around the time he stops feeling self-conscious about the fact that he doesn’t know anyone in this room. The apartment’s packed with people Mark’s never met, and people he’d probably never hang out with outside of knowing Jackson.

Most of them make polite conversation in between the booze Jackson’s been giving him. “You want to try a tequila sunrise? Fei makes all the good girly drinks,” and “you have to have a classic rum and coke.” Then he somehow got cornered into taking vodka shots, and between the coughing and his throat burning Mark decides this is nothing like getting into the bottle of holy wine with his cousin.

Sitting near him are girls in tight leggings and crop tops, guys with multiple piercings, and all of them speaking a mixture of English, Mandarin, or Korean. Mark’s having trouble keeping up, so he stays seated, eats pizza, and drinks whatever someone hands him. If he’s going to become one of the cool guys, he needs to fake it till he makes it.

However, this is the most he’s ever drunk before and his stomach is starting to swirl around uncomfortably.

Someone plops down next to where Mark’s been sitting for the last half hour after Jackson left him to fend for himself to talk to some girl named Amber. “You’re cute.” The guy who made Mark’s couch his new home hair is cut like someone slipped with the scissors around his forehead. “Ever try a jello shot?”

He has a tub full of small plastic containers of different colored jello in his hands.

“What’ss that?” Mark slurs, he’s having a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. His bladder is compelling him to have another shady trip to the bathroom, but he’s not sure he can get up.

“Jello with alcohol in it.”

Mark blinks, “How’d they get the booze in the jelloy stuff?” Why is his tongue not working properly?

Bad haircut stranger picks out a plastic container from the tub. “Made it with water and alcohol. Here, let’s do a one together.”

Mark nods his head, but to be honest bad haircut stranger could have told him the jello came from radioactive moon slime and he wouldn’t have cared. “I, I want red.” He waits for the guy to find a red one from the tub. “Okay how do I drink this?”

"Go around it with your fingers and slurp it out. Like this."

Mark watches him take the shot, and scrapes around the plastic container, breaking the jello up into jello chunks. He holds the container close to his face, "To Jesus!" Then sucks the slippery jello into his mouth.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark can’t stop laughing at Jinyoung, previously known as bad haircut guy. His jello shots are really good, and he even helped him to the bathroom. He is a good guy. Jackson knows some good guys. His friends are not thugs.

“I leave you alone for twenty minutes and you’re doing jello shots with Jinyoung?”

Looking up, Mark sees Jackson staring at him, holding a red cup in his hand. He holds his arms out, “Jackson my coolest friend ever you’re back!”

“How many did you have?”

Mark holds up three fingers. “Four.” He stares at his fingers. “Three?”

“Yeah you’re pretty fucked up. No more alcohol for you mister.”

“Come sit by us,” Mark says, frowning, “you left me.”

Jackson steps around a couple making out on the floor to get closer to him. “There’s no room on the couch. I’ll have to sit in your lap.” He turns around and does exactly what he says, sits in Mark’s lap. “There, close enough?” Jackson wiggles his butt and Mark groans at the added weight. “I’m proud of you for getting wasted, this is a big step for you.”

Yawning, Mark wraps his arms around Jackson because he’s feeling warm and sleepy.

“You know what Jackson? You’re a good guy.” Mark leans forward and his nose goes directly into Jackson’s shoulder. “You smell good, you smell like…you smell like tree.” He breathes in deep. “We should go camping together.”

Jackson shifts in his lap, “Sure Mark, we can go camping.”

“Good. And I have something I want to tell you.”

“What?”

“I forgive you for not saying grace when you ate me last night, ate with me. Dinner.” Mark smashes his face in Jackson’s shoulder, Jackson’s shirt rubbing against his lips.

“This some kinky shit,” Jinyoung says next to them.

Flailing his arm out, Mark hits Jinyoung in the chest. “You, you be quiet.”

“I’m going to put you in my prayers tonight okay?” Mark continues to say, eyelids slipping shut. The last thing remembers is the conversation between Jackson and Jinyoung before the rest of the night begins to become hazy. He’s so tired and Jackson is very warm.

“Damn, where did you find this one? You picking guys up at churches now?”

“He’s a family friend, his dad’s a preacher.”

“That’s some deep shit you’re in.”

“Shut up Junior.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

Jackson feels so very dehydrated, his tongue dry and mouth tasting vile from everything he drank last night. He should get up and take a piss, but he has more than one reason to not leave the bed. One, its comfortable and soft. Two, his head hurts. Three, Mark’s lying on top of the covers on the other side of the bed with Jackson’s green fleece blanket over him. Four, Mark’s asleep.

If he moves, he’ll break the moment they’re sharing.

Last night Mark was very much the drunken son of a preacher. Spouting random things about how Jesus drank wine so it’s okay for him to drink too. In the end, Jackson had to have Jinyoung help him carry Mark to his bedroom to sleep it off.

It was cute how Mark kept thanking him a million times for tucking him in, dragging him down by the arm so he could tell it ‘to his face.’ Jackson wants to do a million dirty things to Mark with his face and it’s a physical pain to hold himself back.

One reason to get up is to take care of the very noticeable erection in his pants demanding his attention.

It would be so hot if he jerked off with Mark sleeping next to him in bed. But, Jackson’s never has been good at secretly touching himself; so rubbing one off isn’t a smart decision. Doesn’t stop him from wanting to do it, and thinking about it only makes his dick harder.

Mark shifts in his sleep, long skinny legs kicking out under the blanket. How Jackson wants to roll back that blanket and see if Mark too is sporting some morning wood. Maybe they could take care of that problem together.

Well, shit. That’s not happening anytime soon if ever. Not that Jackson won’t try of course, but getting Mark to come to the wild side will be as difficult as the twelve labors of Hercules.

Jackson might even have to read the Bible to get to this one. Seeing as he falls asleep halfway through the chapter of Genesis this could be a problem.

Damn, thinking about the Bible isn’t making his dick any softer.

He squeezes his dick through his shorts – he’s still wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday – and lets out a soft sigh. Time to get up, take care of this, and check the damage in the main room. Jackson sits up, rubs his face with his hands, and starts to head towards his door. The floorboards squeak under his weight as he tramples around half awake half asleep.

A loud rustling coming from the bed stops Jackson at the door, his hand still on the doorknob. He turns his head to the side and sees Mark rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Jackson?” Mark’s voice is deep and choppy. He has an adorable blank look on his face and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

It physically pains Jackson how there’s a boy in his bed that he can’t have sex with. Pains him right down to the dick, which he keeps pointed towards the hallway so Mark doesn’t see it.

“Yeah?” says Jackson, swallowing down more gross tasting saliva.

Mark stretches out, “What time is it?”

“It’s…” Jackson cranes his neck to see his clock, “…9:43. Just go back to sleep.”

“Hmmkay.” Mark rolls over on his side and curls up, causing his shirt to ride up in the process and revealing several inches of skin.

Jackson shakes both hands in the air and mimes bashing his head into the wall. Then, he leaves his room and closes the door behind him. All is quiet in the apartment, aside from some soft snoring echoing through the walls.

He enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him, locking it with a click. Pulling down his shorts and boxers, Jackson sits on the toilet seat and fondles himself. He strokes his dick and imagines Mark on his hands and knees letting Jackson fuck in between his thighs. Shuddering, Jackson bites his bottom lip and grips on to the bathroom countertop next to him.

If there is a hell, Jackson’s surely running straight for it.

 

 


	2. Book 1:2

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Mark’s afraid to open the dressing room door; the person in the mirror doesn’t look like him at all. He feels like he’s wearing a second skin, and he’s not sure if it’s a feeling he likes.

“Aren’t you done yet Mark?” Jackson says from the hallway. “Do I need to come in there?”

“No, give me a second.” Mark takes one last look then turns the door handle and peeks his head out. “Don’t laugh.”

Jackson pulls his eyebrows down, “Why would I laugh? I picked this out.”

Stepping out, Mark hunches over and tries to make himself seem smaller than he is. “Because.”

At first, Jackson doesn’t say anything, but he places his hands on Mark’s shoulder and makes him turn around. Then, he stands back and scrutinizes him with a serious expression.

Jackson claps his hands, “It’s perfect.”

Mark swings his arms out in front of his body. He’s wearing a black graphic t-shirt with a design he’s unfamiliar with (but it’s something he’s seen Jackson wear multiple times) underneath a sleeveless jersey by the same company. To top it all off, Jackson’s made him wear a pair of his favorite pants ever, the ones where the crotch takes a nosedive for the floor.

“How do you walk in these?” Mark asks, taking a few tentative steps, “This is weird. I look weird.” He retreats to the changing room.

“You look hot, we’re buying this.” Comes Jackson’s voice through the flimsy wood of the changing room door.

Mark takes off the two shirts first and observes the price tags. “Uh…I don’t think so.” The two shirts alone will cost him over sixty dollars, and he’s not sure his parents would approve of him spending his money on strange clothes Jackson said ‘looked hot’ on him.

But he did like the t-shirt; it’s so different from everything he’s ever worn before. He wonders if Jackson’s right. Maybe he really does look hot and if he looks hot he’s improving his chances of having a love life.

A rapping comes at the door of his changing room, startling Mark from staring at his figure in the mirror.

“I’ll buy them for your birthday,” says Jackson. “When’s your birthday?”

Mark grabs the loose material at the crotch of the pants and furrows his eyebrows. Does he really want this?

“In September,” Mark responds, pulling the shirts off over his head.

“Really early birthday present then. C’mon, wear them for me at least…when we go out together. You need some hanging out with me clothes.” Jackson isn’t giving up if there’s one thing about him he’s persistent.

But, free clothes are free clothes and he’s not spending his money on this.

Mark hangs the shirts back up on the hangers. “I guess,” he says quietly, not thinking Jackson is paying attention because he’s probably coming up with more reasons for Mark to wear the outfit.

“Yes! That’s the correct answer.”

He must have heard him.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Halfway through their shopping trip, Jackson gets a text to meet up for dinner causing them to stop the how to act cool lesson early.

“Go in there and change.” Jackson points at the empty bathroom stall. “You’ll be turning heads I guarantee it.”

Mark obeys him if only because he’s curious if Jackson’s right, not because he wants to. He’s so very glad the bathroom is empty besides the two of them at the moment. “I’ve never done anything like this.” He removes his pants and slides into the new pair.

“Welcome to Jackson Wang’s social experiment, starring Mark.”

The tags are still on the clothing, so Mark stuffs them somewhere on the inside, hoping they don’t show themselves at an inopportune moment. Jackson’s outside spouting nonsense about his abilities – as usual. He slips on the jersey and places his original clothes in the bag the new outfit came in.

“I’m done.” Mark leaves the stall and he finds Jackson’s busy fiddling with his phone. For good measure, Mark washes his hands because he has no idea what he’s touched in here.

“Okay got it,” says Jackson, looking away from his phone.

Mark finishes drying his hands on a second paper towel, “What?”

“Come here,” – Jackson gestures for Mark to come closer – “I want to take our picture.”

Seems reasonable, Mark thinks, and he crowds in close to Jackson, who is holding the phone up in the air.

“Make a cute face,” Jackson says, leaning his head in and making a pouty expression. Mark’s not sure what to do, so he awkwardly holds up a peace sign and smiles. A few seconds later, Jackson snaps the photo.

Jackson checks their photo out on his phone, “It’s not perfect but it’ll do. Alright let’s go.”

“For what?” Mark asks, using the side of his body to open the door.

“Hmm?”

“It’ll do for what?”

Jackson follows him out the door, “Oh, my new phone background or something…”

Mark doesn’t know how to respond to that, but it makes him feel warm inside. He likes it when Jackson praises him; it makes him feel like they’re good friends. Technically, he’s known Jackson since he was eight, but seeing him once every three years doesn’t really equate knowing a person. Plus, Jackson lived in Hong Kong most of his life until college, so that’s part of it.

Having Jackson as a friend feels really good even if he is loud, annoying, and blasphemous. His other good friends went to different state colleges, so he doesn’t get to see them as often as he’d like.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Mark stops staring off into space and turns his head towards Jackson. “Yes?”

“We’re going to be late if we don’t start heading over now.” Jackson grabs Mark by the elbow, pulling him towards the opposite direction. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go.”

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

They make it to the restaurant on time even though Mark had to park far away to find an available spot. The street isn’t too busy, but they are getting to the restaurant about a half an hour before the dinner rush begins.

“This is the place, it’s really good you’re going to like it,” Jackson says, pushing the door open and the door chime sings above them. “You’re going to want to come back it’s that good.”

Quickly, Mark spots JB and Jinyoung sitting at a table close to the windows with another boy he hasn’t met before.

“We’re with those guys there,” Jackson tells the hostess, and walks on over. Mark follows behind him at a slower pace because he’s both embarrassed by Jackson and sure Jackson’s friends are going to say something about what he’s wearing.

Time to man up.

“What up?” Jackson took a chair next to JB, leaving Mark to sit across from him next to Jinyoung.

JB shrugs, “Not much.”

“You guys are here, finally. We got here five minutes before you,” Jinyoung says, taking his eyes off the menu. He pauses, and Mark shifts in his seat. “Woah, nice outfit Mark did you go diving in Jackson’s closet? Be careful what you might find in there.”

Thankfully, Jackson opens his big mouth and Mark doesn’t have to explain himself.

“Doesn’t he look hot? I’m responsible you all can thank me.” Jackson has a self-satisfied smug smile on his face.

JB pushes his chunky glasses up his face, “He looks good, but he looks like you.”

“So?” Jackson says, “What’s wrong with that? I’m fashionable.”

Jinyoung hands Mark his menu and he gives him a sympathetic look, eyebrows dipping down and eyes narrowing at the corners. “Well I think you look hot,” he says, but then whips his head in Jackson’s direction. “You’re a tryhard Jackson,” he tells Jackson without any remaining sympathy.

“What,” Jackson begins to say, but gets cut off by the waitress popping out of nowhere asking to take their drink order.

Mark flips through the menu and bites his bottom lip even though he can’t stop the grin that’s breaking through.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Stop stealing my meat!” The boy next to JB cries out, covering his plate with his arms. JB laughs and pulls his empty chopsticks away from the boy’s space.

“Oh sorry Mark, this is my cousin Youngjae. Distant cousin.” JB turns his head from side to side, “Youngjae, Mark. Mark, Youngjae.”

Youngjae smiles around a mouthful of food, “Hi.” The handsome genes definitely run in their family line. There’s something mischievous written across his face, or it’s just how Youngjae looks.

“Hey.” Mark spoons another portion of rice into his mouth. He’s still forgiving the rest of them for not respecting his need to pray before the meal. He shouldn’t hold a grudge, that’s a bad thing, but he really wants to hold a grudge.

“So, anyway,” JB says, setting his chopsticks down, “what do you want for your birthday Jackson? Besides the usual.”

Perking up, Mark pretends to not be paying much attention to the conversation. However, he realizes that yes Jackson’s birthday is coming up in less than two weeks. After what Jackson bought for him today, and how he’s been totting him around like a kid, Mark knows he should get Jackson something nice.

“I don’t know. Surprise me,” Jackson says. “Hey wait. It’s _my_ birthday I’m not supposed to tell _you_ what I want.”

“Just get him some new basketball shorts. Or better yet, some new bed sheets,” Jinyoung says, and everyone erupts into laughter that Mark doesn’t understand. “We all know who’s going to give the best gift anyway.”

Jackson puts his elbows on the table and points at everyone but Mark. “You all be quiet.”

“Right Mark?” Jinyoung asks with a big grin on his face.

Confused, Mark looks away from his food and up at their faces. “I…I guess?”

Once again, there’s laughter that Mark doesn’t understand.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark closes his laptop and picks up his pencil, scribbling some words down as preparation for his history class. Doing his class preparation is the last thing on his mind; he keeps going back to finding something for Jackson’s birthday. What can Mark get him that Jackson will actually find useful?

One thing Jackson could use is a Bible, and to this day Mark still doesn’t know what religion Jackson is. He seems like a non-practicing Christian since his family is friends with his parents.

Mark flipped to a new page in his notebook at writes on the top line, ‘what to get Jackson for his birthday.’ Underneath he writes the Bible and then stops because he runs out of ideas. He jabs his pencil into the paper and thinks harder.

Successfully breaking his concentration, his younger brother and their foreign exchange student, Bam Bam, comes into the kitchen making all sorts of racket. Bam Bam stayed with one family for half the year already, and now he’s with Mark’s family for the other half. He fits in so well it’s hard for Mark to believe he’s only been with them for two months.

They raid the pantry before Mark’s brother runs back out the way they came in leaving Bam Bam behind.

Bam Bam uncaps his powerade bottle and walks over to the kitchen table, “Hey what are you doing?”

“Homework…where’d Joey go?” Mark drops his pencil. It’s after four PM on a Thursday, shouldn’t he be doing homework and suffering like Mark is?

“Going to visit his friend’s house.” Bam Bam sits down opposite of Mark, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in. “What to get Jackson for his birthday?” he reads aloud. “Who’s Jackson?”

Mark’s stomach curls in embarrassment. “Some…A friend.” A friend sounds better than ‘some guy I know’, and Jackson is his friend. He’s sure they’re friends since Jackson bought him clothes and Mark’s met Jackson’s friends. But, Mark has been spending a lot of time hanging with Jackson that his own school friends have been bugging him.

“What does he like?” Bam Bam asks.

“Hip hop…rap…stuff like that.” Mark picks up his pencil and doodles a swirl on his paper. “This is why it’s hard.”

“Hip hop hmm,” Bam Bam says, resting his chin on his powerade bottle. “Like snapback?”

“Yeah I guess he wears those. He’s into that type of clothes.” He certainly knew his stuff when he took Mark out shopping. If Mark retraces his steps, he probably could find something in one of the stores that Jackson would wear. He could get a t-shirt or something to add to Jackson’s collection.

“Does he wear necklace?”

Mark tries to remember, “I think so.”

“Get him that, accessories are important.” Bam Bam lifts his head up, “I know.”

Bam Bam’s right, he really has the whole dressing well thing down and if anything Mark should take his advice. As he thinks about buying Jackson one of those giant fake gold chains as a joke, he comes up with an even better idea.

He’ll buy him a nice cross necklace to serve him the dual purpose of trying to both save his soul and give him that hip hop look Jackson loves.

  

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

Jackson rubs at his leg where a bruise is forming from where he’d bumped it against a bench in the locker room. He’s been having no luck lately. Worn out from fencing practice, all Jackson wants to do is lay on the couch and watch TV for two hours. However, he should do his Korean reading assignment for tomorrow’s class and the book is lying on the floor.

He’ll get to it sooner or later.

JB comes down the hallway where their bedrooms are located and enters the kitchen without saying a word, going straight for the freezer and taking out a tub of ice cream.

Watching him, Jackson swings his legs up on the couch. “Make me some.”

JB shoves a spoon into the tub and brings it up to his face. “Uhh…”

“Are you eating out of the tub?” Jackson leans over the armrest, “Mannn.”

“Yes, yes I am. So what? Come join me if you want some.”

Jackson rolls off the couch and trudges his way over to the kitchen. He’s glad when JB hands him a spoon without him even asking for one and they dig in to heaping spoonfuls of neapolitan ice cream.

“I love ice cream–” Jackson begins to say, but is cut off by his phone chiming in his pocket. He puts his spoon in his mouth and reaches in his pocket to pull out his phone.

JB scoops up another spoonful. “That your boyfriend?” Jackson looks up from unlocking his phone to see JB wagging his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s my _boyfriend_ ,” Jackson says with a sarcastic undertone.

“Bow chicka wow wow,” JB says then laughs, resting his elbows on the kitchen countertop. Jackson glares at him after he finishes reading Mark’s text. JB sighs, “Ok I’ll stop teasing you.”

Mark asks if he’ll be able to come over this Saturday instead of him coming to meet him at his apartment as planned – something about some obligation to his parents about a kid. He types out that’s fine with him and adds a smiley face. About ten seconds later he gets a smiley face in response.

Ah this cute fucker, Jackson thinks, grinning down at his phone. For this one, Jackson’s going to make sure to go all the way.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Who is this?” Jackson says after stepping into Mark’s house and looking straight at the unfamiliar baby face sitting on the living room sofa.

Mark shuts the door behind him, “This is Bam Bam, our foreign exchange student from Thailand. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry I’ve been busy this past week doing important stuff.” Things like playing video games with JB in between studying for his Korean test and writing his history paper. Oral exams are a lot easier when you can just practice with your very Korean and very opinionated roommate.

The guy in question, Bam Bam, has a very cute face and short hair dyed brown spiked up and is probably too fashionable for Mark’s family. There’s something about him that tips off his gaydar – maybe it’s the impeccable self-grooming. Jackson feels like he needs to get to this one before Mark’s family sucks him in and the next time he sees him he’s in jeans and a button down like the rest of them.

“It’s Bam Bam?” Jackson asks, heading into the living room where Bam Bam is watching television. “I’ve been to Thailand once it’s a very pretty country. I’m Jackson, Mark’s cool friend. How long are you here in America?”

“Hello nice to meet you Jackson.” Bam Bam sits up straighter on the couch. “I’m staying here for the school year.”

“Oh…” Jackson says, “Your English is good.”

“Thanks.”

Mark enters the living room after trailing behind them, “He’s in my younger brother’s grade.” He fidgets with his hands. “My mom asked me if I could show him around this afternoon…if that’s not a problem.”

“No, but you’ll have to drive because I brought my bike over.”

Mark smiles, nervous tension fading away from his face. “Ok. I’ll go get my keys.” He leaves the room and Jackson stares as Bam Bam watches Mark head out the room with a soft expression. This Bam Bam kid seems like he fits right in with Mark’s family.

“So, how’re you liking your stay? I know Mark’s family is pretty religious, his dad being a preacher and all. They might be a little crazy about Jesus, but they’re good people.”

Bam Bam gives him a bright grin in response, and Jackson starts to wonder if there is something else behind that cute exterior and baby face. “I like them, and Mark is a good host brother. He’s been showing me around.” There’s a strong sense of admiration in his words. “He doesn’t talk much, but he listens.”

“Sounds like Mark. You should have seen him before I got a hold of him. Man, was he clueless. He still has a lot to learn from me.” Jackson laughs, knowing he should shut up before Mark comes back and hears him talking behind his back. Then Mark will get pissy and refuse to talk to him for an hour.

“That’s ok, I like him like this,” says Bam Bam. “Mark is a good guy. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Oook…”

The air between them gets awkward, strained with the way Jackson stares at Bam Bam and how Bam Bam stares back at him. Jackson narrows his eyes, unsure that if he looks away he’s somehow lost to the kid in front of him. No one tells him what to do with Mark.

“I got keys.” Mark interrupts their staring contest. “Should we go?”

Jackson glances away from Bam Bam to Mark, “Yeah of course, we should probably go hang out and show him some shops then get lunch.” He puts an arm over Mark’s shoulder because he can, and watches Bam Bam frown with inward glee. “How does that sound?”

Mark doesn’t try to shrug the arm off his shoulder, which Jackson takes as a good sign to sneak in a little closer and piss Bam Bam off more.

“Fine.” Mark takes off towards the door to the garage. “I think you’ll like it Bam Bam.”

“I’m sure I’ll like wherever you take me,” Bam Bam says. What a suck up.

Bam Bam glares at Jackson all the way to the car, but Jackson doesn’t let go of Mark until he calls out shotgun and tells Bam Bam that he has to sit in the backseat. Sliding on his seatbelt, Jackson feels assured that he can call today his victory over the weird kid who has some strange thing for Mark. Only Jackson can order Mark around.

Mark pulls out of the driveway and they’re off towards the shopping center where Jackson’s been trying to get Mark to buy some new clothes for weeks now.

“If we can sometime, can we go to the beach?” Bam Bam asks. “I would like to take some pictures for my parents.”

Damn kid probably wants to see Mark without a shirt on; he’s smarter than he looks. He’s going to keep an eye on this one.

“Yeah, I’m on break soon. It’ll be warmer in a few weeks too. I’ll tell my dad.” Mark agrees with Bam Bam like he’s his own brother. Siblingzoned.

“I can come too, I haven’t been to the beach in a long time. Guess what this is a perfect opportunity for our training,” Jackson says, and watches Bam Bam wrinkle his nose in the rearview mirror, teenagers. “I love the beach.”

“I guess-” Mark begins to say, turning on his blinker and switching lanes.

“It’ll be great!” Jackson says and opens his window part way.

He’s going to have to start upping his game, not that the pipsqueak is any real competition.

“Why are you laughing? It’s creepy,” Mark says while they wait at a red light.

Jackson turns on the stereo, “Just thought of something funny.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

In the end, Mark can’t make it to Jackson’s twenty-first birthday party right away. He has to go to a family event the Friday Jackson’s holding his party because Jackson’s actual birthday fell on a Tuesday that week. The family event is a prearranged thing, so somehow he’s going to make going to both work out.

Not to mention that Mark had so busy writing a paper that he hadn’t seen much of Jackson during the week except for the texts they exchanged. The ten minutes he saw Jackson on Tuesday in between his two classes to say happy birthday had been so brief he forgot to give Jackson his gift.

Mark plans on making up for it tonight at the party.

He doesn’t get home until ten at night, leaving him some time to change out of his Jackson deemed unacceptable clothes, into a Jackson approved outfit. His dad drops him off at Jackson’s apartment with a warning to not party too hard because Jesus is always watching and everything.

Mark’s sort of afraid for what he’ll find when he gets inside. He lets himself into the first set of doors and hits the buzzer for Jackson’s apartment. What if everyone up there is too drunk to unlock the set of doors downstairs? He could call Jackson, or JB, or stand around and press the button a few more times.

He waits and then waits some more. Right before he’s going to press the buzzer for a second time, there’s a loud click and the locked door in front of him unlocks. Mark grabs the door before it decides to lock again.

The elevator ride up is slow and further makes Mark question whether coming to Jackson’s birthday party is a good idea. But it’s too late to back out now as he exits the elevator and walks up to the apartment door.

He holds his hand up to knock, the sound of rap music playing in the background can be heard through the door. Mark lets his hand drop back to his side and grabs the doorknob instead – it’s probably open.

He twists the handle and sure enough the door opens to a room full of people. Mark slips inside, trying to remain cool even though he doesn’t know most of the people in the room. Some of them he recognizes at first glance from the last party he went to at Jackson’s place. Not that he spoke to many of them, being that he spent the night binge drinking on the couch.

Much like what he plans on doing tonight. Find a corner, drink until things get less awkward, make small talk with some of Jackson’s drunken friends, and give Jackson his gift.

The kitchen is full of red plastic cups, liquor bottles, soda, and juice as well as people.

Squeezing past a few people, Mark picks up a red cup, but then the horror descends upon him in the form of too many choices. Also the fact that he has no idea what he is doing. What alcohol goes with what? Can he just put some in his cup and pray it tastes good?

Perhaps praying right now would be a good idea.

He reaches for the one bottle he remembers from the haze that was the other party. Slowly, he begins to pour the alcohol out into the cup.

“Hey, it’s Mark isn’t it?”

Surprised, Mark’s hand shakes and he dumps more alcohol into his cup all at one time. “Yeah,” – Mark sets the bottle down – “I’m Mark.” He looks over his shoulder to see the girl Jackson was glued to last party, Amber.

“Good to see you again.” She pats Mark’s back like she’s known him for years when in fact he’s only met her once. “Jackson’s been waiting for you to come. Pouting all night.” She laughs, “Just kidding you know him.”

She sets down her own cup on the kitchen counter and pours in the same alcohol Mark had in his hand not too long ago. “Hey Jackson!” She yells across the room, barely looking at what she was pouring.

A moment later there’s a response. “What?”

Mark scans the living room and sees Jackson sitting on the couch’s armrest surrounded by four other people.

“Your boy’s here.” She grabs a liter of soda and starts to pour it into the cup and now Mark knows exactly how to finish his drink.

“My what?”

Mark takes the opportunity to adjust his pants with the falling crotch from where they were riding low down his hips because he still doesn’t understand how he should be wearing these. It’s enough humiliation that his dad’s seen him wearing them he doesn’t need them to fall off his butt.

“It’s Mark,” – Amber pokes him with a finger – “right here.”

Bringing his hand up Mark gives a slow wave. He watches Jackson notice him and smiles, becoming more aware of the weight of the present in the side pockets of these pants.

“Oh Mark! Hold on,” Jackson says, and stands up to make his way over to the kitchen.

Mark takes a sip of his drink and almost spits it back out – it’s too strong. He’ll spend all night trying to choke this awful creation down unless he can pour it down the drain when no one is looking. Being wasteful is the least of Mark’s worries right now.

Jackson appears next to them and in no time he’s got an arm around Mark, but Mark’s gotten used to Jackson being touchy. From the flush on Jackson’s face, he’s also had a few to drink. Mark sloshes his concoction around and hopes for the best.

“What took you so long?” says Jackson, “You’ve been missing out on my party.”

Amber gives Mark a look, her head tilted down and a shrugging of her shoulders that Mark reads as ‘see look at how annoying he’s been.’

“I had a family thing,” Mark explains, putting his cup down before he spills on himself, “I told you about this.”

Jackson slaps Mark on the back, “Oh yeahhhh. Well…” He picks up Mark’s cup and hands it to him, “Chug it you need to catch up to the rest of us.”

Mark purses his lips together, he will persevere, and he is strong.

“Oh and we’ve been doing a shot for every year of my life we’re up to thirteen already, hold on while I line them up.”

Mark chokes on his drink, coughing at the strength of the alcohol and the small amount of liquid passing down the wrong tube. Jackson’s laughing his obnoxious laugh and patting him hard on the back as if that helps.

“I’m just kidding god you’re fun to tease. You gotta loosen up.”

One of these days, Mark thinks, he’s going to snap and strangle Jackson for real.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

One and a half drinks later, Mark has a pleasant buzz hovering over his head. Warmth filling up his stomach as he sips on the remains of his second and watches Jackson and a couple of his friends play a drinking game. He has no idea what is going on, but the game involves putting cards under the tab of a beer can.

“Ha! Take three drinks Jackson!”

Jackson picks up his cup, “You guys are trying to get me drunk.” He takes three obvious gulps from his cup before setting it back down and putting his card under the beer tab. “Just wait, you guys just wait until I get the right card.”

Mark leans his back against the couch from where he’s sitting on the floor next to Jackson who’s sitting on the actual couch. A hand touches the top of his head.

“And then I’ll make Mark drink for me,” says Jackson, hand patting Mark’s head.

JB picks up a card from the deck, “Hey how come Mark’s not playing? Aw shit.” He flashes a six of diamonds and then a bunch of people take a drink including JB.

“I don’t know the rules.” Mark stares into his drink. Also, he’s not sure he wants to play. He’s more than content enough to sit here and watch.

“We’ll teach you,” JB responds. “It’s fun. Someone get Mark a new drink,” he demands and slaps his thigh.

“I don’t know…” Mark tries to back out of it, “I’ve drank a lot already.” The peer pressure is starting to get to him, as the faces staring back at him don’t appear to believe him.

“C’mon, is the room spinning yet?” says someone from the group of players.

“No, but– ”

“Then you should drink more!” says Jinyoung from across where Mark’s sitting, eyebrows raised and grinning catlike. He winks and Mark feels like a fire is lit inside him after all their teasing.

Mark shrugs his shoulders and sets his almost empty cup down on the floor next to him. “Ok, I’ll do it.” He cracks his knuckles, “What do I do?”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Everything is ten thousand times funnier when drunk as Mark has so learned. He leans against Jackson’s leg, slumping over himself, laughing so hard he’s afraid his stomach is going to burst.

“And then…and then Jackson was stuck in the bathroom,” JB pauses to wheeze because he also can’t control his laughter. “Na-na-aked and o-only had a washcloth–”

The girl to the right of Mark laughs like a hyena, which makes Mark laugh even more.

“To dry off with–”

Jackson speaks loud over the laughter, “This is not funnyy, stop laughing.” He covers his face with his hands and Mark feels tears form in his eyes.

However, JB isn’t done trying to tell the story. “And he comes out holding the…rag…over his,” – JB puts his hand on his crotch – “and I’ve never seen him run so fast before.”

Jinyoung is rolling around on the floor, hitting his fist on the wooden flooring every so often. Mark wipes his eyes; this is the most fun he’s had in a while.

“Thiss party is over,” Jackson says, overreacting as usual. “Alright all you ff-freeloaders leave.” He stands up and walks away from the group towards the kitchen.

Sluggish, Mark makes to stand with the rest of the group that has made it until past two in the morning. Several members of the group stagger to pick up their things, and one of them mentions calling a cab. Mark’s unsure what to do since he’s expecting to be able to crash in Jackson’s apartment until the next morning and have his dad pick him up.

The lights in the living room go out, leaving Mark standing in the dark watching the door swing shut as the last of Jackson’s friends leave.

“Hey–” Mark starts to say, before Jackson wobbles his way back to him.

Jackson gives him a hand up. “Staying? Let’sss go,” he says with a slight slur to his words and for once Mark believes Jackson is drunker than he is. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go to bed.”

Mark moves forward, heading in the direction of the hallway to get to Jackson’s room. He can feel Jackson grabbing at him from behind, tugging at his shirt and poking him in the back. Turning around, Mark means tell him to quit it.

“Stop –”

The kiss is accidental, Jackson’s lips smashing farther down Mark’s face and landing more towards the side of Mark’s mouth. Mark can feel the softness of Jackson’s lips pressing on his skin for the brief seconds that they are together. His skin tingles after Jackson pulls his head away; apologizing with so many words they all jumble up in Mark’s brain.

Mark draws his shoulders up and curls away from Jackson, touching his face and slapping Jackson with his other hand. He lets out a noise of embarrassment, “What was that?”

“My birthday kiss?” Jackson’s breath smells heavily of alcohol and it clouds Mark’s judgment.

“I’m going to hit you. I’m seriously going to hit you,” says Mark, feeling around the wall in the hallway for Jackson’s room. He drags Jackson behind him with one hand grabbing on to Jackson’s shirt. “You’re bad.”

Jackson bumps into Mark when he stops walking, having found Jackson’s door, “I’m a bad birthday boy? What are you going to do about it Maahhrrkk?” He giggles, hanging off Mark’s back.

Mark gropes for the door and pushes it open, ignoring the weight of Jackson against his back. The drunk leading the drunk is a new concept for him. He stumbles forward, staggering on two legs, trying to guide both Jackson and himself into the bedroom.

Arms encircle his waist from behind; surprising Mark after he realizes Jackson is hugging him from behind.

“Hmm?” Jackson’s voice is near Mark’s ear, “Nothing to say?”

A tingle goes down Mark’s spine, starting from his head and flowing down to his toes. Unconsciously, he tilts his head back and feels Jackson’s nose bump into his neck. A warmth settles across him, and suddenly Mark is aware of the way his clothes touch his skin and the way Jackson is breathing into his shoulder.

“I…I…” Mark stutters, swaying forward another step. “You Jackson now don’t–”

Jackson laughs and squeezes Mark around the middle with his arms – too big arms – and then lets go of him. “You’re the man Mark. God, you’re the best.” He makes a dive for the bed, landing smack in the middle on his stomach.

“Get over here,” Jackson says, rolling over on the bed. “I’m really drunk.” He runs a hand down his body, “Ook, I’ll let you have your wicked way with me. Or not wicked. Holy. Holy way.”

Mark shuffles forward and climbs on the bed on his hands and knees, careful to avoid Jackson. “Shut up Jackson,” he says, but his cheeks burn at the comment. He flops down on the other half of the bed.

“Does shut up mean yes take me now?” Jackson rolls closer to Mark.

Annoyed, Mark pushes Jackson away from him. “It means shut up.” He fights back as Jackson flails his arms out in resistance. “Stop it–”

Somehow he ends up half sitting on top of Jackson in an attempt to gain the upper hand, not that their fight is anything but comical. Both of them hitting each other weakly and trying to keep from falling off the bed. One of Jackson’s hands holding Mark back at his shoulder, the other grabbing at Mark’s wrist.

From outside in the hallway, comes a knock at the door. “Will you two stop flirting and go to bed?”

“Yes mom,” Jackson yells out.

Mark forgets to say his nightly prayer that night.

 

 


	3. Book 2:1

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

Mark flips to the next page in his notes, highlighter in hand ready to color the next line he thinks is important. He needs to get a good grade on this next test otherwise he’s going to be in trouble for the rest of the semester. Psychology is not his thing, no matter how many times he reads his notes he seems to get tripped up somewhere in the multiple choice. Hopefully this round by starting almost an entire week before he’ll retain some of the information by the time the test comes around. Studying only two days before is likely the reason why he flopped the last exam.

He’s near the end of the first section of lecture notes when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

 

Mark sets his phone down on the desk to rid himself of the distraction and forces himself to return to reading through his notes. He gets done with another two pages before his phone buzzes to life again. The only reason Mark can think of why Jackson asked where he was is to come and bother him.

Though, it’s not like Mark’s getting much studying done here anyway. He’s finding it hard to concentrate on the material.

 

 

Closing his notebook, Mark packs it away in his backpack, tossing his highlighter in the front zip pocket. First he’ll have a snack with Jackson, and then he’ll finish reading over the notes. Or there is always tomorrow to finish up what he doesn’t get through today.

He gathers his things and pushes the chair back in, heading towards the stairwell tucked behind a maze of tall bookshelves. After going down a floor, Mark navigates across the library to the central spot in the middle where Jackson is waiting. The bridge is the meeting spot for students in the library to work together, have a snack, and talk without disrupting the unsaid rule of being quiet.

Entering past the glass doors, Mark scans around the room for Jackson. The tables next to the student café are mostly all taken, but there are a few empty tables in the corner. He’s about to get out his phone and text Jackson that he’s here when he sees Jackson walking towards the glass doors on the opposite side of the room.

Mark meets Jackson in the middle. “That was quick,” Mark says when he approaches Jackson.

Jackson holds up the tinfoil lump he has in his hand, “I was nearby, found some tacos, thought we could share.”

“Over there,” Mark says, pointing to an empty table next to the large windows overlooking the campus.

“Sure,” responds Jackson, and they both go to claim the table before it gets taken.

After setting the tinfoil wrapped food down on the table, Jackson drops his backpack on the floor with a loud clunk. “They’re chicken…I think…I don’t know what they are but they look good.” He sits down and begins to unravel the tinfoil. “Two for you and two for me.”

Mark brings his chair closer to Jackson so he can reach the food easier. He picks one up; it’s warm and looks delicious, sauce oozing out the side of the small tortilla. “How much do I owe you?”

“My treat,” Jackson says and then takes a giant bite. He chews a few times then swallows. “Damn this is good.”

“Thanks.” Mark bites into the food and the fact that he already ate a sandwich and a bag of pretzels dissolves into nothing. He could eat five more of these things.

They don’t say much to eat other until they’re left with licking the juice off their fingertips and wiping them off on their pants. Mark crumples up the tinfoil while watching Jackson lean back in his chair and pat his stomach.

“So, what are you studying?” asks Jackson, “Anything interesting?”

Mark glances down at this backpack, “Psychology.”

“Ah, I took that class last year. Need some help? I think I still have my old notebook.”

“That’s okay…” – Mark stares out the window – “hey, what are you doing for spring break?” He turns his attention back to Jackson, waiting for an answer.

Jackson leans forward and picks up the ball of tinfoil, playing with it in his hands. “I don’t know yet.” He tosses the ball from one hand to the next.

“Oh.” Mark purses his lips and dives in, “if you still want to, you know, go to the beach…we could. Bam Bam wants to go.”

“Yeah of course. Let’s go show that guy the beach,” says Jackson.

Mark feels relieved even though he’s not sure why he was worrying about asking this in the first place. The more time he spends with Jackson the more comfortable he is doing things he’d never try out. If Jackson wants to go wind surfing, then he’d try it out because he’s with Jackson.

Is this what it feels like to be a part of the cool kids group?

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Don’t look at the subtitles that’s cheating,” Jackson says, sitting on the couch next to Mark with one of those ten percent more chips ten percent more air bags of cool ranch Doritos. Mark sticks his hand in the bag immediately.

The one thing about Jackson’s apartment is that there’s always some form of snack food available.

“I’m not,” says Mark before shoving a handful of Doritos in his mouth.

A loud thud comes from the hallway, and the door to JB’s room opens. He’s got his backpack swung over his shoulder by one strap.

“What are watching?” JB comes into the living room and peers to see what is playing on the TV. “We got married, are you two serious? That show’s for girls. No wonder you guys are watching it.” He leaves to put his shoes on by the front door.

Jackson takes his hat off, flips JB off, and rearranges his hair. “We’re practicing for class.”

“You can just practice with me, I’m fluent,” – JB opens the front door – “well see ya, got to go to class.”

Mark waves as JB closes the door behind him, and now it’s only him and Jackson in the apartment. He crunches down on a chip and does his best to focus on the show, filling in the blanks with the words he’s unfamiliar with. He’s only been taking Korean for a few years now.

Jackson bursts out laughing sending chip particles flying out of his mouth. “Did you see that? He’s so losing his man card for that. She’s got him by the balls.”

The scene changes and the TV couple switch to the pair that Mark doesn’t really care for. Their segments are so fake and scripted that even Mark thinks he’d do better being fake married.

“This show has been on for years,” says Jackson, “they need to do something different. Something big.”

Mark chomps on another chip. “Like what?”

“They should have a guy-guy couple, or a girl-girl couple. Now that would be fun to watch.” Jackson picks up his water bottle and takes a swig. “It’s like the same thing over and over again. Boooring.”

“Why would a guy be with another guy?” Mark turns his head away from the TV to glance at Jackson. “That’s not marriage.” He laughs to clear the air from Jackson’s ridiculous proposal. Seriously, having two guys together on a show, who would want to watch that?

“Why would–” Jackson gestures with his hands in the air, “Because…because guys can like guys too. And this is the twenty first century we’re not living in a bubble. It would be like a giant step forward. For South Korea at least.” He speaks with a passion that Mark hasn’t heard from him before and it surprises him. “And lesbians. That’s double the boobs.”

But, Mark’s never spent too much time thinking about that before. Marriage is like something his parents have, and everything else is just the grey area in between. It’s a concept he doesn’t want to think about until he’s at least twenty-five.

Mark takes his hand out of the Doritos bag slowly, aware of the noise and how he’s becoming anxious for reasons he doesn’t understand. “Would you, would you go on the show with a guy?” Since when was Jackson sitting so close to him? Is the Doritos bag really the only thing separating them on this couch?

_Our father who art in heaven…_

Jackson isn’t looking at him. “Sure, of course. It’d be fun.” He turns his head and Mark jerks back, not wanting to be caught staring at him so intensely.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You and me, let’s do it.” Jackson points at Mark and then brings his finger towards himself. “The Wang-Tuan couple.”

Shaking his head, Mark chuckles, trying to ease his nervous tension. “No way man, I want a divorce. Who would want to marry you?” His chest tightens in an uncomfortable ache.

Jackson’s happy expression falls and Mark wonders if the joke’s gone too far, but then he smiles. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen me in the bedroom yet.” He flexes his biceps to prove his point. “I’ll blow you away.” He laughs, “Get it? Blow you away.”

 _Blow you…blow you away?_ Mark stares at Jackson for a second, brain working hard to get at Jackson’s little inside joke. Then it clicks, the light bulb in his brain turns on and Jackson’s dirty little joke makes sense.

“Ew gross.” Mark grabs the pillow on the couch to his side and slams it into Jackson’s head.

Jackson brings his arms up to protect himself from the pummeling, and when Mark figures he’s had enough, he stops. They’re both breathing harder than before, and the Doritos bag is probably half crushed.

“You’re vicious you know that?” says Jackson, retrieving his cap from the floor where it’d been knocked off during the beat down. “Poor chips.” He sets the mangled bag on the floor.

Mark grins and decides to ignore what happened earlier. “We’re going to have to rewind I have no idea what is going on.”

Jackson finds the remote on the floor. “Yeah of course.”

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

Once his fencing equipment has been put away, Jackson’s wiping the sweat off his forehead and ready to get back to his apartment. He’s been slacking on practices lately to hang out with Mark and ingratiate him into his circle of trust. Due to that, his coach has been pissed at him for skipping extra training, citing that he’s been getting too cocky in his first place ranking.

Jackson knows he should start getting more serious and stop spending most weekends entertaining Mark, but he wants to do these things. Each time he feels closer to his goal of swaying Mark to his side. At first Mark was a goody two shoes too awkward to even speak up in a group of unfamiliar people.

Now Mark’s more at ease with Jackson’s friends. Better than he was to begin with at least.

He’s about to leave the locker room, four steps away from the door when a voice calls out his name.

“Jackson, don’t forget your phone!”

Patting the pockets of his sweats, Jackson notices that his phone isn’t weighing down his pocket like it usually is. He swivels on his heels towards the speaker and sees the assistant coach’s son, Yugyeom, who often goes by Yu since his name is a mouthful to most people in America.

Yugyeom’s an aspiring fencing athlete and he sometimes comes with his dad to practices for the experience. Even at the young age of sixteen, Yugyeom’s taller than Jackson, and Jackson resents that a little bit.

“Dad had it,” Yugyeom explains, pressing the phone into Jackson’s palm. Yugyeom’s right, Jackson had his phone taken away from him during practice because he kept texting people. His cell phone was ruining his competitive spirit, or so his coach said.

More like Jackson wants to entertain himself during breaks between doing drills.

“Thanks, I forgot and almost left without it.” Jackson’s thumb flies across the screen, unlocking it to see if he has any important messages to respond to.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Oh and, you are coming to the training camp during spring break right? Dad wants to find out how many can make it so he can make sure the gym is reserved.”

Jackson’s eyes skim across the list of unread texts, “Mmhm yeah sure.” Something about training over break, sure he’ll make a presence.

“Okay great I’ll tell him.”

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

He drops his backpack down in the middle of the floor, shrugs off his shirt, and heads straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. He’s thirsting for something cool and refreshing, the wind during the ride over must have zapped all the water out of his body.

“You’re back,” says JB’s voice from the living room.

Jackson fills up a cup with water from their water pitcher in the refrigerator. “Yes I’m back.” He walks straight to the living room to take a seat next to JB on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“How was practice?” JB asks, shifting his laptop from where it’s resting on his legs. “Slay any opponents for me?”

“It was okay, tiring, the usual.” Jackson takes a drink then slouches down into the couch cushions. “I’m thinking about if I should quit the team after this year.”

“Whaaat?” JB says, head snapping up and away from his laptop. “Aren’t you the best on the team? You’ve won medals and shit. Why quit?”

“Next year’s senior year and I’ll probably be busy with…I don’t know school stuff.”

After a few quiet TV filled background noise seconds JB speaks, “Do you really want to quit? I thought you’d go pro.”

Jackson takes a moment to think back on the thrill of scoring, winning, and putting on the white uniform. Stands filled with a supportive crowd for a sport where seconds and a split second decision can make or break a win. No, he doesn’t want to give it up, but maybe he should start focusing on what to do after college.

He turns his chin into his chest.

“No,” Jackson pauses, “growing up sucks.”

“Maybe there’s still a future for you as a gay sports motivational speaker.” JB laughs, and Jackson’s glad he changed the subject because fencing has been his sore spot for the past year.

Jackson balances his cup of water on the armrest, “Yeah, and when you can’t make it as an English translator you can fall back on your stripping job.”

“You’d pay to watch me,” JB retorts.

“You want to make some money? Get up there and start right now,” – Jackson points to the open space between the coffee table and the wall mounted TV – “dance for me JB.”

JB just laughs, “You’d like that too much.”

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

9:44PM – T.N.  
 _Where’ve you been lately? It’s a little gay how much time you’ve been spending with that guy._

Mark sets down his phone and rolls his eyes, breathing out frustration on his exhale. His friends are being idiots and it’s not like Mark sees them often when they go to other college’s hours away themselves. They only say that because he hasn’t had much time to join them in playing co-op’s online.

He has other things to worry about like failing psychology and having to take it again over the summer. He doesn’t want to have to spend his summer retaking more classes because he can’t get the material to stick inside his brain. No matter that his parents look at his grades and say it’s okay for him to have such a low GPA, but it’s not like he feels good about it.

Frowning, Mark rubs his lips and picks up his phone with his other hand, but doesn’t respond to his friend. Instead, he pulls up Jackson’s text chat to complain to him about his friend. At the end, he tags on that he could in fact use Jackson’s old psychology notes because apparently he did fall asleep during one lecture and his handwriting is illegible.

A knock comes on his door, startling Mark from where he’s staring at his laptop reorganizing his music playlists. “Yes?” He says, wondering who’s coming to his room this late.

His door opens and Bam Bam’s head pops in, “Mark? Sorry but can I borrow your ipod charger?”

Mark backs away from his messy desk, rolling out in his desk chair. “Yeah.” He fishes for the charger that he has plugged into the power strip next to his desk. Wordlessly, he holds the charger out for Bam Bam to come take.

“Thanks. I can’t find mine – wow I didn’t know you listened to rap,” Bam Bam says, and Mark panics for a moment because he has the playlist Jackson made for him up on his computer screen.

“It’s just something a friend gave me,” Mark says, “I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“No it’s cool,” says Bam Bam. He points to an artist on the list, “he’s good, and so is he, and wow your friend has how do you say it? Good taste? Who gave you this?”

Mark nods his head to show Bam Bam he used to expression correctly. He’s no stranger to rap and hip hop, but he tends to listen to Christian radio in the car, so he’s very out of the popular culture loop. “Uh…Jackson did.”

“Jackson?” Bam Bam says, his tone a bit high pitched, “I’ll give you some of my collection too. You will like it.”

“Ok,” Mark says, “sure I’ll try it out.”

“Good.” Bam Bam smiles, showcasing a large amount of teeth, and pats Mark on the shoulder. “Well…thank you for this,” – he holds up the charger – “and goodnight.”

Mark walks with Bam Bam back to the door to his room so he can close it. Waving Bam Bam off, Mark decides he too might as well just give up and try to sleep. However, by the time he’s gotten ready for bed, lying under his sheets with the lights off, Mark isn’t a single bit sleepy.

He presses his phone to turn it on, wedging himself on his side to see the screen. Jackson still hasn’t replied to him from earlier, and it’s not like he’s expecting a quick response, but he is. He turns over on his other side and flips through his phone screen, looking for some app to waste some time with. Halfway through a level of candy crush, his phone beeps and surprises him.

10:28PM - Jackson  
 _u sound like u need a dirnk. wanna come over and see JB’s new kitty tomorrow?  
i’ll give u my notes_

Mark bites on his lip and texts Jackson back that yes he would love to see the cat and thank you for the notes. Somewhere along the past few weeks he’s cared less and less about becoming cool, but he supposes that’s just the Jackson effect. He sucks you in like you’re a moon orbiting a planet and no matter how much you want to punch him you can’t because he’s Jackson.

And he’s kind of an amazing guy.

He doesn’t fall asleep until after midnight.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

“You’re wearing it.”

Jackson scrunches his eyebrows together and glances at his shirt, “Huh?”

Mark’s juggling a squirmy kitten in his arms, “The cross, your birthday gift.”

They’re sitting on the floor in the living room next to each other, playing with the cat while JB is in class.

“Oh.” Jackson turns his chin towards his chest and notices how the necklace has popped out from under the loose neck of his t-shirt. “Yeah I like it, thanks again.”

Before Jackson had taken Mark home the next morning, Mark had thrown a lumpy package at his head after a crude comment Jackson made about Mark’s bed head. To be honest, Jackson isn’t religious, he’s far from anything involving religion these days, but the necklace is hella tight.

“It looks good,” Mark says, eyes on the kitten crawling around his legs, “on you…”

Oh please, Jackson thinks, stop saying these things and playing with small furry creatures. It takes considerable will power for Jackson to not just say fuck it and grab Mark by the sides of his face and kiss him. But Mark isn’t anywhere near ready for that yet, and Jackson can wait.

Good things come to those who wait after all.

“You want to get food and do our Korean homework together?” Jackson asks, touching Mark lightly on the arm. Nora runs away and attacks the small sparkly mouse JB bought her, tiny teeth and claws digging into the fabric.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Mark tilts his head towards Jackson and Jackson stares at his eyelashes. Mark has a really attractive face, long but angular and capable of making even an awkward expression look good.

Standing, Jackson gives Mark a hand up. “What do you want to eat? Indian, Chinese, Mexican, or Pizza?” He and JB have a collection of take out menus on their fridge. “I think we got one for a new Thai place…” As the word Thai leaves his mouth, Jackson remembers Mark’s family’s foreign exchange student with the strange fixation on Mark. “Or maybe not.”

Mark dusts a few stray cat hairs from his plain grey shirt, “Pizza is fine.” He bends down to pick Nora up off the floor even though she continues to squirm in his arms.

Jackson grins when Mark scratches Nora behind her ears and then she nips at his fingers.

“Ouch, why is she biting me?” Mark pulls his hand back and Nora leaps out of his arms to the floor.

“Because she wants to be free and play,” says Jackson, and he goes to get the number of the pizza place off the fridge. “You okay with everything on the pizza?” he asks when he takes the pizza delivery place’s flyer out of its magnet.

Mark hangs around where the kitchen meets the entryway in the apartment’s open floor plan. “That’s fine. I eat everything.”

Jackson licks his bottom lip, _so do I_ , he thinks.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

An hour later JB shows up with Jinyoung following behind them, both kicking their shoes off to the side and dropping their bags on the middle of the floor. JB falls to the floor to pick up his kitten, cooing at it like the proud father he is.

“Hey Mark,” says Jinyoung, heading straight for the box of half eaten pizza. “You guys got pizza? I love you.”

Jackson sets his pencil down on his Korean workbook, “Why are you here?” It’s a good thing he decided to order two pizzas on a whim. Someone unexpected pops up whenever there is take out in the equation.

“To see JB’s cat. Why are you here?” Jinyoung counters, chewing on the slice of pizza.

“I live here,” Jackson says, slicing his arm through the air to make his point. “You always come here, eat my pizza, and give me sass. I’m done with it Junior.” He shakes his head when Jinyoung widens his eyes and points at himself.

Jinyoung pokes at his chest with his free hand, “Who me?”

“No, your evil twin–”

JB walks into the kitchen and pushes Jinyoung to the side, hands flipping the cardboard pizza box open and taking a slice. “Thanks for the food.” He takes a big bite, “What’re you two doing, having a study date?”

Jackson grabs another piece of pizza even though he has a half eaten one on a plate already because if he doesn’t JB and Jinyoung will eat everything they see. He notices that Mark’s chewing on the crust part of his slice, so he sets the last piece on Mark’s plate to finish the first box. “We’re doing our Korean homework.”

He wipes his greasy hands off on a napkin.

“I see…” says Jinyoung, rummaging through their fridge. “So that’s what you’re calling it these days.” He pulls out a can of coke and pops the tab with a loud hiss of released carbonation.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Jackson puts emphasis on each word, “Very funny.”

He takes a glance at Mark, who is smiling and eating pizza even though he hasn’t said much this whole time. Not too long after Jackson had met Mark again did he realize that Mark’s the listener type and it’s not that he isn’t friendly, he’s just quiet. Jackson is more than fine with filling in the conversation for the two of them sometimes.

Checking the time, Jackson eases up and shoos the two pizza thieves away. Mark can’t stay forever, and Jackson’s supposed to go to practice in an hour and a half. He’ll probably be late again.

What can he do? When he gets Mark to come over, he just doesn’t want to let him go.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

Mark lets himself fall into the couch in exhaustion, ignoring the fact that Bam Bam is doing something on the opposite side. He slumps over and curls his knees towards his chest, resting his head on the decorative pillow. His day has been long and mentally tiring, but now he’s done with classes for spring break.

All that he can focus on is lying on the couch and zoning out to whatever Bam Bam’s watching. His mom comes in from the kitchen and tells them she’s heading over to the church to meet his dad for a dinner outing. There are leftovers in the fridge and pizza in the freezer and she’s sorry she’s can’t take them with her to the expensive restaurant.

Mark waves goodbye and lets his hand fall back on the couch cushion with the help of gravity.

“Want me to turn down the sound?” asks Bam Bam, and Mark notices he can no longer hear the scribbling noises of Bam Bam’s pen.

“No it’s fine,” Mark says, fixing his head’s position on the pillow, “what are you watching?” He watched the show on the TV screen where it seems like it’s based on a farming community.

“Am-ish, Amish people. It’s very different.” Bam Bam looks towards Mark and their eyes meet, “They don’t use technology.”

“Oh.” Out of all the things Bam Bam could be watching, he’s watching some strange program on Amish people out of the blue – unless he’s watching this for school. “Yeah, they don’t. It’s weird.”

Bam Bam grins, “Well, your parents are gone so now we can watch reality shows.” He fishes for the remote, which apparently is somewhere behind Mark’s butt. Mark startles when Bam Bam’s hand grazes past his butt.

“Oops. Got it.” Bam Bam lifts the remote up with him and Mark lets himself relax against the back of the couch again. “I will find us one to watch.”

Mark grunts for a response because he doesn’t care what Bam Bam puts on the TV as long as it isn’t something violent. He knows there is a good chance he’ll fall asleep halfway through anyway.

Tomorrow is the first day of spring break and he’s going to sleep in, eat a big bowl of cereal, and do absolutely nothing but play video games.

“Oh, um…do you want to go to the beach this weekend?” Mark remembers that Bam Bam had asked and since Mark doesn’t have any commitments besides Sunday church this week is the best time. His brother and Bam Bam’s spring break doesn’t coincide with his college break unfortunately, so they can’t go in the middle of the week.

“Saturday? Yes I want to go with you.” The excitement in Bam Bam’s voice is present and Mark doesn’t have to see his face to know Bam Bam’s ready to get up and go right now.

Mark shoves his hand under the pillow, “M’k, I’ll make some plans.” Meaning, he needs to tell Jackson because he’s interested in going and then Mark won’t have to bear the brunt of teenage energy by himself.

Bam Bam can keep on going for hours especially after he’s had an energy drink. That’s a lesson Mark learned the hard way.

Mark falls asleep listening to Bam Bam chatter about what he’d like to do over the weekend with the loud noises of the reality show playing in the background. He drifts to sleep and the strange thought of going on we got married with Jackson shows up in his mind.

 

 


	4. Book 2:2

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**Mark**

Asking Jackson to come to the beach with him on Saturday was a bad idea because what started out as a three-man affair quickly became four then five then six people. The next thing Mark knew they were taking two separate cars and a cooler full of their lunch. This isn’t what Mark or his parents probably had in mind when Bam Bam said he wanted to see the ocean. Thankfully, Mark’s family isn’t going to the beach with them, or Mark would never be able to explain what twenty something college kids do for fun to his parents.

Not to mention it would be embarrassing.

Unloading the car, Mark takes the time to switch from his shoes to his sandals while trying to keep track of Bam Bam so he doesn’t fly away and get hit by a car. Or a low flying seagull.

Jackson’s wearing his hat the correct way for once – the way it’s supposed to be worn. “I’ll get it.” He brushes Mark’s hands away from the heavy cooler in the trunk.

“I can get it.” Mark grabs on of the side handles before Jackson can muscle his way in front of him.

“No really, let me take it. It’s heavy.”

They jostle in position, back and forth, to be the one who will lift the cooler out of the trunk. Somehow taking the cooler out has turned into a feat of strength and Mark doesn’t want to back down just because Jackson has strong arms and solid muscles. Compared to Jackson, Mark’s a stick insect.

“Hey Mark,” Bam Bam calls, the sound of flip flops slapping against pavement moving closer comes to Mark’s attention. “Is the sun lotion in the bag?”

Distracted, Mark lets go of the cooler just enough for Jackson to push him aside. “Yeah, it’s in with the towels,” he says as he’s pushed away and his hands let go of the handle.

“Ok good. Let’s go to the beach.” Bam Bam’s smiling and acting his youthful age.

Mark picks up the beach bag his mom packed for them, complete with all the essentials one needs at the beach (even bandages in case someone gets cut by a sharp seashell). He’s left with locking up the car while Jackson wheels the cooler up the sidewalk leading to sandy beach ahead with the troop of friends that tagged along.

JB’s there because as an exchange student he has no reason to go home for a week, and Jinyoung’s in the same boat for lack of anything to do. For some reason JB’s American cousin Youngjae’s with them, but that’s probably to give Bam Bam someone to socialize with who isn’t five years older than him. Or he just tagged along. Mark finds that he doesn’t mind; it’s better to go to the beach with a group of friends.

“I like your swim suit.” Bam Bam falls into step with Mark as the two of them bring up the rear of the group.

Mark takes a moment to glance at his swim trunks. They’re nothing special, a navy blue and grey pattern design with an electric blue drawstring. If anything is impressive, it’s Bam Bam’s tropical colored trunks. “Thanks,” Mark answers awkwardly, unsure how to respond to the compliment.

“They look good on you,” Bam Bam says, kicking a stone on the sidewalk ahead of them several feet.

“Yours too…look nice.” The swim trunks Bam Bam has on suit him and his personality – loud and colorful.

Mark grits his teeth and keeps walking forward. This is so awkward.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“It’s cold!” Bam Bam says, wading in the ocean with the water up to his knees. The waves roll in and out in a gentle fashion, bouncing them all back and forth. Their group is in various stages of denial about going into the water.

JB’s splashing water on his chest in some futile attempt to get acclimated to the water temperature while his cousin Youngjae has his arms crossed over his chest with water up his his hips. Jinyoung and Jackson are the only two who seem to have bravery, having ran straight into the water and never looked back.

Mark’s content to wade in nice and slow, but he isn’t going to submerge in until it’s necessary.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken,” says Jackson, dogging paddling around in circles. “Bawk bawk bawk bawk.”

Bam Bam scoops up water with his hand and splashes it at Jackson, “I’m not chicken.”

“That’s right, you’re a little kid. Do you need me to hold your hand?” Jackson taunts and swims farther out of range of Bam Bam’s splashing attacks.

Mark walks away from the impending showdown towards Jinyoung. A face full of seawater isn’t something he wants right now, and Jinyoung is floating on his back making frog kicks with his legs. The deeper Mark goes into the water, the more the sting of the cool temperature gets to him. From his lips to his belly button he crosses his arms and keeps moving forward.

Jinyoung floats, blind to the fact that Mark’s coming up, and ends up bumping Mark’s arm before Mark can step aside. He reacts quickly, righting himself and planting his feet on the sandy ocean bed. “Woah.” Jinyoung shakes his head, water droplets flying. “Sorry Mark, didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay. My fault.”

A larger wave forces Jinyoung closer and water hits more exposed skin than Mark’s ready for. He yelps and sticks his hands in the water for balance.

Jinyoung drops down into the water until all that is left above is his head. “You should come in. It’s easy. Look at JB, he looks like an idiot.” Sure enough, JB is flailing his arms and he’s yelling for Youngjae to stop messing with him a few feet away in loud Korean.

“I will I’m just going to take my time.” Mark swishes his hands in the water. He knows taking the plunge would make everything easier, but he’s not ready yet.

He doesn’t have much time to prepare because a pair of wet arms latch onto his back and pull him downwards. A stream of laughter the last thing Mark focuses on before he’s falling backwards from the weight forcing him down.

“Stop stop stop!” Mark yells, voice breaking, but it’s too late he’s going under. Closing his eyes before the water engulfs his head, Mark gets a quick breath in his lungs.

The shock of being dunked floods over him until all that is left is a short sting. When the arms pushing down on Mark’s shoulders let go, Mark resurfaces, sputtering and shaking his head. The water in his ears clears out, and he swipes the water from his eyes.

He turns around and sees Jackson swimming away from him. “Jackson,” he calls out in frustration.

Mark trudges forward towards Jackson, “I’m going to kill you.” The sting of the cool water no longer bothers him one bit.

Jackson swims on his side, “Thou shalt not kill Mark.”

That doesn’t stop Mark from pushing Jackson’s face underwater.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark’s sure he has sand up his butt crack no thanks to Jackson pushing him into the sand earlier when he was still wet. He feels something grainy and uncomfortable rubbing down there when he shifts his position, but he can’t just stick his hand down his pants and grope his butt in public.

He’s going to have to live with it, or go back into the water.

Dried sand is streaked up his legs from where he’s been trying to brush himself off with his towel. Jackson’s wearing his towel draped over his back like a cape. In the bright sun, Jackson looks rather magnificent in only his swim trunks and flip-flops.

Mark stops himself from staring; the sun must have gotten to his head. That or he’s was in the water for too long.

“Mark,” Bam Bam says, “do you want to come for ice cream?” He’s got his shirt back on, but his hair is wild and stiff from the drying saltwater.

Normally, Mark wouldn’t say no to ice cream, but he doesn’t want to walk all the way back across the beach and up the boardwalk to get ice cream. He just wants to lie out on his towel and dry off.

He shakes his head, “No, I’m good.”

“You going to come with us Jackson?” JB asks, getting up off his towel next to Mark.

Mark hugs his knees to his chest and spreads his beach towel back out on the sand.

Jackson’s legs come into Mark’s field of vision, “Nah, I want to dry off. Bring me back something?”

“No,” JB answers, “I’m not your slave.”

“Jackson’s staying? No, Jackson should –” Bam Bam interrupts and that was around the point that Mark decides to become fascinated with the broken seashell fragments to his right. Maybe if he digs around in the sand, he can unearth a complete shell.

The water droplets on his back are drying, ridding him of the sensation of lingering dampness. Mark bends to the side and runs his fingers through the sand, pushing it into a mound.

A shadow crosses over his sand mound. “What’re you making?”

Mark holds a hand up to his forehead to block out the sun, “A hill.” He squints up at Jackson, who no longer has the towel over his shoulders since it’s now over his head.

“Want to go for a walk?” Jackson digs his toes into the sand, so Mark flicks sand at him.

Mark shakes his head; he’s tired.

“You’re no fun.” Jackson spreads his towel out next to Mark and sits down. “Do you need anymore sunscreen?” He leans over to grab the bag next to their cooler. “Can’t have you burning to a crisp. Crispy crisp Mark.”

“Maybe a bit.” Mark holds out his hand, and Jackson squeezes a glob in his palm. He rubs the sunscreen between his hands and smoothes it over his arms and shoulders.

Jackson moves closer to him and his hands descend on Mark’s back. “Here, let me get this for you.”

Two hands rub the sun lotion into Mark’s back, and Mark hangs his head in between his knees. If he could escape today without any sunburn, it would be a miracle.

“How’d you do on your midterms?” asks Jackson while rubbing down the center of Mark’s spine.

Mark closes his eyes, “Okay.” Mostly B’s and one C in psychology, but screw psychology that class just isn’t his thing. “Could have been better.”

“Lean forward a bit will ya?” Jackson’s legs stretch out on either side of Mark’s and even with his eyes closed Mark can feel them next to him. “I can’t reach well.”

Letting the angle of his knees drop, Mark leans forward farther, bending and grabbing his ankles with his two hands. Jackson rubs more sun lotion on Mark’s lower back. A knot forms in Mark’s stomach as Jackson’s hands dip below the band of his swim trunks because it’s not like he’s wearing underwear underneath.

It feels good and relaxing, almost too relaxing.

Now is not the time for him to get a bit too excited over a back massage.

“Why is there so much sand down here?” Jackson’s hand goes lower than it should.

Mark snaps upright, sending his head reeling at getting up too fast. “Don’t – oh my head.” He rests his face in cupped hands. His waistband snaps back against his skin, Jackson’s hand leaving dangerous territory and clasping him on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Got up too fast – and it’s your fault.”

Jackson lets go of Mark’s shoulder, “My fault? How is it my fault you have sand down your trunks?”

Mark’s blood pressure returns to normal after a few seconds, “You pushed me before.” He straightens up and scoots forward away from Jackson. “I don’t like it.” The more he moved around, the more the sand moved around and dislodged itself from his skin.

“Just brush it off,” Jackson suggests, “don’t be a baby. Don’t be Bam Bam.”

Yes, Mark thinks, groping himself would rid some of the problem, but it won’t get rid of the sand where the sun doesn’t shine.

“That won’t help.” Mark drops his knees down and crosses his legs.

“Why?”

Mark turns his head to the side, “It’s down the crack, okay? And thanks.”

Jackson starts to laugh, kicking up sand when he moves his feet around. “Oh God. The words that come out of your mouth.”

“Don’t –” Mark opens his mouth, but Jackson cuts him off.

“Say the lord’s name in vain blah blah blah I know,” says Jackson, and he wiggles his toes, which happen to be around the place where Mark’s bent knees are, so he pounds his fist on Jackson’s right foot. “Ow.” Jackson recoils his foot.

Mark stands up – uncaring that his ass is in Jackson’s face – because Jackson’s being annoying and he regrets not going to get ice cream. He takes a few steps to the cooler and takes out a cold bottle of water out and holds it against his cheek.

While he’s taking a long swig, Jackson gestures with his hands. “Pass it here when you’re done.”

Mark screws the cap back on before tossing it to Jackson. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. If he squints enough, he think he can make out Bam Bam’s head on the boardwalk.

However, it’s much too far away for him to be making any type of guess unless he had some binoculars handy.

“So, where are you going the rest of break?” Mark asks, not because he’s starting to become dependant on Jackson, but because he’s curious. They have a whole week off after all.

Jackson leans over and grabs his hat that’s half buried in the sand. “A training camp thing. I was supposed to go today, but I ditched.” He shakes the sand off and sets the cap on his head.

“Is that okay? We could have come next weekend you should have said something,” says Mark. He feels awkward with Jackson sitting down and staring up at him, so he crosses his arms over his chest.

Jackson waves it off, “It’s okay. They’ll get over it for one day. I said I’d come to the beach with you didn’t I?”

Mark’s brain works backwards to when they were entertaining Bam Bam for a day and Jackson pushed the whole going to the beach thing into being. “Yeah. But still –”

“I’m not going to get in trouble because I skipped one day. And yes, you can pray for my sins in church tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes to the side, Mark heads over a plops back down on his towel, but this time facing Jackson.

“I’ll pray you get in trouble then.”

Jackson adjusts his cap, “That’s not very Christian of you.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” says Mark.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

Seeing Mark without his shirt off for half a day is the best thing to happen to Jackson in a few weeks. He wants to reach out and touch it, so if he’s being extra handsy today he doesn’t even care what other people think. Today Jackson’s in a beach paradise.

Of course Mark’s foreign exchange buddy has to be along to ruin some of Jackson’s plans. He’s been challenging him all day. First the swimming competition, then the sand castle building, snow cone eating, and beach volleyball (where everyone learned Bam Bam’s terrible at volleyball).

“Mark, I got you an ice cream.” Bam Bam holds out a plastic dish with vanilla ice cream and sprinkles. The side of his face twitches when Jackson assumes he takes a good look at how Jackson’s arm is slung around Mark’s shoulders.

Jackson grins, he likes teasing this kid he’s too funny.

“Woah thanks.” Mark smiles, taking the dish. “You didn’t need to.”

Jinyoung plops down on the sand with a half eaten waffle cone in hand. “He’s a good kid.”

Looking over his shoulder, Jackson sees JB and Youngjae walking across the sand with their sandals in hand. “Did you get me ice cream?” He calls out.

JB throws his sandals at him, “No. You’ll get fat.”

“I have abs! This is all muscle.” Jackson points his finger at JB as he approaches. Youngjae shrugs and at least has the decency to look apologetic. “I’m not fat.”

“We get it, you’re not fat,” JB says, sitting down on his towel. “You said you didn’t want ice cream.”

Jackson stares at him, “I want some now that you’re eating it in front of me.” His hand twitches and his arm droops from where it’s slung over Mark’s shoulder. “That’s cruel.”

“You should have come,” says Bam Bam, stretching out his towel and sitting down on Mark’s other side. He spoons a clump of ice cream into his mouth and tilts his head up, which Jackson takes as a challenge.

Jackson scoffs, blowing out air through his nose. “You guys are the worst friends ever.”

“Here just,” – Mark thrusts his dish of ice cream at Jackson’s chest – “have some of this.”

Jackson’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“Really? You don’t have to be so nice,” Jackson says as he glances up from the ice cream to Mark’s face. He takes the dish with his free hand, “Thanks.” Mark turns his face away quickly, avoiding Jackson’s stare.

In order to eat the ice cream, Jackson has to let go of Mark. He takes the spoon in one hand and scoops up a healthy slab, making sure to catch a few of the remaining sprinkles. After he sticks the creamy ice cream into his mouth, Jackson realizes they’re sharing a spoon. In any other situation, Jackson might consider that a bit gross, but he hopes one day soon they’ll be sharing saliva in a different way.

A couple of spoonfuls later and Jackson nudges Mark with his elbow, “Here, I’m good.”

“Want some of my ice cream?” Jinyoung says, pointing his half eaten cone in Jackson’s direction. He chuckles and there’s ice cream all over his lips.

“No I’m good.”

Jinyoung brings his ice cream cone back to his face, “I see you only want Mark’s ice cream.”

“I don’t want your soggy ass cone Junior,” Jackson retorts, resting his hands on his thighs. One of these days he’s going to wrestle Jinyoung to the ground for his mouth.

JB laughs and joins in on poking fun out of Jinyoung for at least the second time that day. They’d been ragging on each other the whole car ride down too, so they were in high spirits about spring break.

Jackson turns his attention away from his friends – and Bam Bam – to look at the ocean. The waves kept rolling in, hitting the shore and erupting into foamy bubbles before being sucked back in. Today’s his one free day to enjoy because he’s probably going to get his ass handed to him tomorrow. God, the things he does for Mark.

He zones out for a few seconds, blankly staring at the ocean ahead of him. It’s mesmerizing in a way.

“Jackson, Jackson, Jackson!”

Shaking his head, “What?” Jackson says.

“We’re going to leave in an hour,” Mark says, scraping around the dish with his spoon, “is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Jackson looks directly into Mark’s eyes. He smiles, “That’s fine.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Coach Allen is more than disappointed that Jackson shows up a day late, and Jackson’s sure he’s holding a grudge against him. Why else would he be thrown into two hours of cardio followed by two hours of strength training then two and a half more hours of drills before he could call it a day?

Jackson guzzles down his water bottle; the last hour of practice wore him out.

Yugyeom walks over from across the room, a towel lying across his neck. “Where were you yesterday?” He sits down on the bench next to Jackson.

Swallowing, Jackson wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Promised a friend something.”

“Well I hope it was worth it,” Yugyeom says, pressing his back against the bench and letting his arms hand down over the side. “You missed group practice yesterday.”

“It was worth it.” Jackson let his elbows rest on his knees as he bent over, all the strength seemingly having left his body. _It’ll probably help him get laid in the future._ “I’m sure your dad will have me do suicides tomorrow to make up for it.”

“I have school tomorrow,” Yugyeom says.

Sweat drips off Jackson’s forehead and splashes on the floor below him, “High schooler.” He pauses before continuing, “You coming for group lessons at night?” Yugyeom’s only sixteen years old after all, he can’t keep up with them all the time.

“Yeah, my mom’s bringing me over.”

Jackson bent upright, straightening his back and feeling his muscles ache from over exertion. His armpits sweat through his shirt and he knows he probably reeks. After all of this, he still has to get back to his apartment, shower, and get himself to come back at eight AM tomorrow morning.

They should have rooms you can sleep in at the gym complex to avoid all this unnecessary movement in between.

“Well, I better get moving,” Jackson says as part of his motivation to get his ass off the bench and hit the locker room before one of the coach’s comes to kick him out. Work legs, he thinks, show me what you have left in you. He picks himself up off the bench and taps Yugyeom on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

Yugyeom’s shoes slap on the floor, “Don’t forget to come.”

“I won’t.”

He loves fencing, but what Jackson really wants is to sit on his couch and watch Korean variety shows with Mark.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

He dribbles the basketball in his hand up and down against the concrete of his driveway. The sun is shining and the temperature is just right with a slight breeze coming from the left. Mark has nothing better to do, and his mom sent him outside to make him stop playing video games.

Thankfully they don’t have access to his grades to see the C he’s getting in psychology.

It’s enough that his dad took him aside and asked if he’s considering going to seminary school after he finishes his theology degree. Mark’s bounces the ball down hard on the concrete, causing it to bounce up higher than he’s expecting. He’s hesitant about what to pursue after senior year.

Should he go into the ministry like his father is basically expecting he do, or should he go into mission work? It’s all too complicated and at times Mark just wants to dig himself a hole and lie down in it because he doesn’t know what he wants.

The past year has made him unsure about becoming a pastor.

He knows he wants to do something meaningful, but he doesn’t know how. What Mark needs is a sign from God, but seeing as those are hard to come by he’s going to have to figure it out himself.

Mark lines himself up, jumps, and shoots at the basketball hoop installed at the side of the driveway. It hits the backboard with a smack and drops straight into the basket, a perfect shot. Life is not as easy as making a perfect shot in basketball. He walks up to catch the ball before it rolls down the street.

The front screen door opens, “Hey Mark?” Bam Bam leans out from inside the house, “You just got a phone call.”

Mark tosses the basketball back and forth between his hands, “Thanks.” Walking up the driveway, he sets the basketball down in the grass before going inside the air-conditioned house.

At the entrance, Mark toes out of his shoes and heads across the living room to the kitchen table where he’d left his phone. Getting a phone call is not an everyday occurrence nowadays unless it’s from his parents and his dad’s at the church and his mom’s working in her office.

He picks up his phone and wakes it up, sure enough, one missed call from a number he doesn’t recognize. They did leave him a voicemail, so he pushes the button to listen as he holds the phone up to his ear.

 _”Hey Mark, this is JB, I got your number from Jackson. He’s been busy with his training camp and today he’s got a half-day off, so I thought we could surprise him. If you get this before noon give me a call back. Jinyoung and I are going to get some food and meet him at campus. So…um, talk to you soon ok?”_ The voicemail ended and the automated phone message started to talk in Mark’s ear.

Glancing at the time, Mark calls JB back right away, and the other line answers after the first few rings.

“Hello?” JB’s voice says on the other end.

Mark paces away from the kitchen table, “Hey JB it’s Mark, I got your message.”

“Oh great, you free today? This afternoon?”

“Yeah.” It’s not like he has any plans this afternoon, and his brother and Bam Bam just started their spring break, so the house feels rather full.

“Think you could meet us at campus at 2 by the sports complex? That’s where Jackson is.”

“Sure,” says Mark. “I can do that.”

JB gives him some instructions on where to meet them before they hang up the call.

Mark’s excited that he has something to do and can get out of the house. He’s been relaxing for the past four days, but he hasn’t heard much from Jackson since their beach day and he kind of misses him a bit. Wow, he must be really bored out of his mind.

However, he’s got another three hours to wait around before he needs to meet JB and Jinyoung.

Mark slips his phone into his shorts pocket and walks back into the living room where Bam Bam is sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Hey Bam Bam, do you want to play basketball?”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“But I’ve never been inside the sports complex where am I supposed to go?” Mark asks JB and Jinyoung.

Jinyoung points at the big double doors at the top of the short set of stairs, “Go inside, swipe your student ID card at the gate and hang out in the lobby. Jackson will show up.”

“He will?” Mark glances up at the door. The campus is eerily empty over break and it being so deserted is odd.

“Yes, so go in there,” JB says. “We have to do something first.”

Mark doesn’t understand why he has to go in and retrieve Jackson, or why JB and Jinyoung won’t come in with him. Arguing with them over it isn’t getting him anywhere. “Okay fine I’m going.” He walks up the steps to the front doors and pulls at the handle of the glass door to get inside.

Everything is very blue and grey inside from the carpet to the walls to the unmanned gate that monitors who comes in and who goes out. Mark notices what Jinyoung was talking about, in order to get inside he has to swipe his school ID card to get through the gate.

He swipes his ID and moves past the gate to get inside the lobby where he can see through large glass windows that overlook a lower level of empty gym courts. Mark has no idea where Jackson is, but the sports complex is a four level building with a basement, so he could be anywhere.

Sitting down in one of the plastic chairs next to the windows, Mark takes out his phone to fiddle with it as he waits.

A few failed games of flappy bird later comes the loud sound of a group of people walking in the hallway to Mark’s left. Mark fixes his posture and lowers his phone to his lap, hoping Jackson’s a part of the group so he doesn’t have to sit here alone much longer.

The group rounds the corner and several guys and girls in athletic clothing start to come closer. When Mark sees Jackson at the back of the group, a big smile comes across his face, finally. It takes Jackson a few seconds to notice him, what with him talking to the tall guy at his left.

“Mark,” says Jackson, surprise evident in his voice. “Why are you here?” He heads straight over, breaking away from the group.

Mark rests his hand on the arm of the chair, “I’m here to get you.”

Jackson furrows his brow, “For what?”

“JB and Jinyoung’s surprise –”

A long haired girl comes up behind Jackson and tugs at his backpack, “Damn it Jackson is this guy yours? Where do you find them give me some of your good luck.”

“Haha,” – Jackson shoves her away by her shoulder – “go away Alison.”

She backs away, pointing at Jackson with both hands, “I’m just saying, hook a sister up sometime.”

Mark watches Jackson shoo her away, feeling out of place and confused. Why doesn’t Jackson seem to know why he’s here? JB had told him that Jackson knew what’s going on, or maybe Mark got that wrong and it really is a surprise.

“Sorry –” Jackson turns his head away and watches his as his group leaves through the gym doors before bring his attention back to Mark. “What was that?”

“Uh…did you hear from JB or Jinyoung?” Mark asks.

Jackson straightens the cap on his head, “No?” He takes his phone out of his pocket; thumb scrolling up and down the touch screen. “Was I supposed to?”

Frowning, Mark stands up. “I thought we were…well never mind. JB wanted to surprise you since you’ve been busy. They sent me to come get you.”

“Okay.” Jackson leads the way out of the gym, both of them swiping their ID’s to leave. “That’s cool. I’m free for the rest of the day.”

They step outside into the heat and sun of mid afternoon and Mark wishes he had brought a pair of sunglasses with him, but all he has is his car keys.

“They should be down here somewhere,” – Mark glances around the sidewalk in front of the building – “or maybe not. I don’t know where they went.”

Jackson keeps walking forward and descends down the steps with Mark following him at his side. “Those two…” Suddenly, Jackson’s phone begins to ring. He takes his phone back out of his pocket and stares at it. Mark tries to see who is calling, but can’t make it out from the sun’s glare.

“Jesusss…Mary and Joseph,” Jackson says, giving Mark a quick look before picking up the call. “What is this.....No, why did you guys have him come…I’m going to kill you later you better watch out…yeah sure…fine. Bye.”

Feeling nosey, Mark could only guess that it was either JB or Jinyoung on the other end of the call. “What was that?”

Jackson laughs, “JB and Jinyoung ran away. As JB put it, so we could have a nice date.”

Mark feels his heart rate speed up, “A what?” He bites down on his lower lip.

“A date,” Jackson repeats with a grin. “Well…since you’re here I’ll make the best of it. Come on I’m going to show you something much better than a church picnic.” He slings an arm around Mark’s shoulder and Mark feels a bit self-conscious.

He’s never felt so out of place around Jackson before. Is it because of the words date?

“W-what’s wrong with a church picnic?”

“It’s got the word church in it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will the surprise buttsex happen?


	5. Book 3:1

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

He’s going to beat JB and Jinyoung up when he has the chance. In fact, he might even do it tonight. He’ll steamroll them into his apartment floor. Though, now is not the time to plan his friends demise when Mark’s following him around like a lost sheep, and he makes a cute sheep.

He was just joking around when he told Mark about JB calling his ditching them together as their date time. Except, Mark didn’t even say a peep about it. Jackson takes that in stride as a good sign.

Jackson absent-mindlessly tugs at the chain around his neck, “This is my favorite spot by campus. Let’s just stop in quick.” He opens the door to the café that’s a few blocks over from the sports complex. The jingle bells hanging from a string on the door handle sound as they move back and forth.

Mark leans in close, “This is so hipster.” He squeezes in behind Jackson as they enter the café, which is mostly empty. Two girls in workout clothes are sitting at a tall table next to the windows, talking and sipping from iced drinks. A man in flannel and a grey beanie leans against the counter, talking to the barista as she makes his drink.

“You know what hipsters are?” Jackson raises an eyebrow, sticking a hand in his pocket to take out his wallet.

Mark huffs, “I have the internet. I’ve heard thrift shop. I’m not hopeless jeeze.” He mashes his lips together, eyes flitting from Jackson’s face to the menu board up high on the wall.

“Just checking,” Jackson teases, then scans the menu board himself. “You know what you want?”

“Give me a second…”

Jackson’s feeling like a latte today because the air conditioning is on full blast in the café. Never mind that he likes to see the latte art before he takes a drink. “One second,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he walks up the counter.

“ _Thanks_ ,” says Mark, shuffling over behind Jackson.

Grey beanie guy moves away and Jackson takes his spot, “I’d like a small hazelnut latte and,” – he points his thumb at Mark behind him – “what do you want Mark?”

Mark’s eyes widen, “You don’t have to –”

“Yes I do.”

“Uh…I’ll have the same thing.” Mark steps to the left while Jackson gets out his wallet to pay the lady. In the corner of Jackson’s vision he can see Mark swiveling his head and staring at the quaint themed decorations and line of coffee sacks against the sidewall.

The barista hands Jackson his change, “I’ll bring them out to you when they’re done.”

“Thanks.” Jackson touches Mark’s shoulder, “Let’s grab a seat.” He leads the way to his favorite area of the café, the set of black leather couches tucked away behind an open bookshelf filled with memorabilia.

Mark sinks into the couch, “Thanks for buying.”

“No problem,” Jackson says, sitting down next to Mark at his right and dropping his gym bag on the floor, “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t pay for my date’s drink?” He smiles and puts an arm around Mark when Mark grumbles at him. “You’re a cheap date.”

“Cheap? What’s the most expensive thing you’ve done for a date?” Mark asks.

The question throws Jackson off balance. He’s been on a lot of different dates before, some of them working out, some of them ending badly. “Well…I took my date to a concert back in Hong Kong.” In fact, they’d gone to a kpop concert, and it wasn’t cheap.

“And the cheapest?”

“The park I guess. I don’t know, you don’t have to spend money to have a good time,” Jackson says, “I know a lot of things I can teach you back at my apartment on having a good time.” He can’t help the smirk that curls his lips up, but the flopping of his stomach puts Jackson on edge. Flirting with Mark is hard because he doesn’t want to screw up.

Mark is just too cute with his confused expression that slowly morphs into realization from the way Mark’s mouth drops open.

Mark stiffens under Jackson’s arm, “Hey…”

“Two hazelnut lattes.” The barista appears to cut through the tension, bringing with her a way to change the subject without injuring anyone’s pride. She sets the drinks down on the coffee table in front of them.

Jackson lets go of Mark and picks up his mug; a cute latte art in the shape of a heart is drawn on both his and Mark’s mug. Sly barista, Jackson thinks as he sets his mug back down.

“Let’s take a picture first.”

“What?” Mark leans in to pick the other mug up off the table.

Jack already has his phone out and is fiddling with the camera app, “Come closer.” He uses one hand to hold the phone out and wraps the other around Mark’s waist. “There, that’s it,” Jackson says, pulling Mark towards him to get both of their faces in the photo.

“Smile!” Jackson presses to capture the image then flips the phone around to see how it came out. He opens the photo gallery and shows Mark the picture – it looks pretty good. They’re both smiling and Jackson’s sure this is going to be his new phone background because he’s cheesy like that.

“Okay that was for facebook. Now, let’s send something gross to JB and Jinyoung.”

A devilish idea forms in Jackson’s head.

Mark finishes taking a sip of his latte. “Like what?” He licks the milk foam off his upper lip.

“We’re on a date right? Let’s get back at them, so here,” – Jackson pats his cheek with his pointer finger – “give me a kiss.”

“What.” Mark cradles the coffee mug in both hands, “Why me? You do it.”

Jackson switches the camera app back from gallery mode to taking a picture mode. “Because they won’t believe it if it’s you doing it. Punks. They tricked you, don’t you want to get back at them?” He shifts his position on the couch to face Mark at a better angle.

“I guess.” Mark stares at the floor. “Fine, I’ll do it.” He puts his coffee mug down.

Readying his picture-taking arm, Jackson pats his left cheek again. “Right here.” His heart beats fast in his chest even though he tries not to show it. Thankfully, the café is almost empty and they’re both sitting out of the way of the other customers, which is why Jackson likes sitting off to the side.

“Don’t rush me,” Mark mumbles, leaning in and Jackson watches as he bites his lower lip. “This is so weird.” His voice cracks.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Jackson says.

“Shut up.”

Jackson grins; he can feel the gentle press of Mark’s lips against his cheek, the touch of a few stray hairs against his face, and Mark’s nose rub on his cheekbone. He likes it so much he almost forgets to take the photo, and by the time he presses his finger, Mark retreats.

Quickly, Jackson checks the photo, but it’s a blur of movement. Oh damn, they’ll just have to do it again what an absolute shame. Disappointment is but a fleeting emotion in this case.

“It didn’t turn out.” Jackson flashes the picture to Mark. “Second try.”

“Jackson.” Mark throws his head back in frustration. “Don’t mess up this time.”

“Hey, it’s your fault you moved! I wasn’t ready.” Jackson tightens his arm around Mark’s waist. “I’ll get it right this time.”

“You better,” says Mark, and leans in a second time. “I don’t want to do this a third time.”

Jackson mentally prepares himself, he only has one chance to get this right, and he’s going for it. He’s probably going to go to hell if there is one for this. His chest tightens because when it comes to Mark, he turns into a jittery fool.

As Mark’s lips begin to touch the side of Jackson’s face, Jackson turns his face towards Mark. Lips brush over skin until two sets of lips meet in the middle.

Jackson takes the picture.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

His brain shuts down the moment he realizes he’s no longer kissing Jackson’s cheek but his lips. Mere seconds pass by before Mark’s brain recovers from the shock and he jolts backwards, his cheeks burning hot. His lips tingle, and a full body shiver runs over him, which he disguises as extreme surprise.

“J-J-Jackson! What was that?” Mark shoves at Jackson, but Jackson’s arm is still wrapped around his waist, so he’s hit by recoil. He tries to convey his annoyance to Jackson through the tone of his voice. Mark licks his lips to wet them.

They’re in a public place and Jackson pulls a fast one on him.

“Just relax,” Jackson says, “it’s perfect.” Jackson’s hand is rubbing up and down Mark’s side. “Look.” He flips the phone over and Mark’s eyes catch sight of the photo where he and Jackson have locked lips.

Mark reaches to grab for the phone, “Delete it! Delete it right now.”

If Mark could will the phone to self-destruct, it would. How is he supposed to look Jackson in the face after that?

“No way I want to frame this and put it on my wall. Let me send it to JB first.”

They wrestle over the phone, time ticking away on the giant clock on the wall across them, thoughts of being courteous to the other patrons flying out the window.

Mark gives up after Jackson’s elbow lands in a soft spot when they’re fighting over Jackson’s phone. It’s no use fighting Jackson over the picture since Jackson somehow always gets what he wants. In the past few months Mark’s known Jackson, he’s yet to see Jackson fail miserably at coming through.

The proof is in the clothes Mark’s wearing.

“It’s done.” Jackson picks up his mug and leans back into the couch cushions. “Don’t look so weird. I’m not a bad kisser right?” He takes a long sip.

Mark shifts a little bit to the left, putting some space between him and Jackson. “How am I supposed to know after two seconds?” He shudders at the thought and glances away from where he finds himself staring at Jackson’s mouth.

“Who was your first kiss? Jane at summer bible camp?” Jackson jokes.

Mark stares down at his coffee mug in shame.

“You’re fucking kidding me, did that happen?” Jackson throws his head back against the couch and chuckles. “Oh my god.”

Mark’s neck and shoulder twitch in synchronization. “His name was Andy.”

“His name?” Jackson repeats, eyebrows zooming up his forehead. He stares at Mark with wide, dark eyes, and Mark averts his eyes from Jackson’s face. “You have way more balls than I thought Mark, damn. Did you make out in church?”

Swirling the coffee around, Mark tries to keep himself from cringing. At least Jackson isn’t freaking out over Mark’s confession because he’s never told anyone this particular story before. “He kissed me and ran away.” The long truth behind the story is that Mark’s first kiss was just an innocent peck by a boy in his religion camp, who then later denied kissing him at all.

He was thirteen and very confused.

“Oh.”

Mark takes a long drink, his heart racing, and it isn’t due to the caffeine. Why did he just tell Jackson that story? He’s such an idiot; the confession just fell out of his mouth without much thought.

“What a douche,” says Jackson.

Mark looks up from his mug and tilts his head to the side.

“He kissed you and ran away? That guy’s a dick,” Jackson continues, and Mark feels Jackson touch his neck. “That’s a shitty first kiss.”

Shrugging, Mark leans back into Jackson’s hand massaging his neck. “It’s fine, I don’t really care.” He isn’t one to care about first kisses, or first dates. Things happen and maybe sometimes they happen for a reason beyond any of their knowledge. God has a plan for everyone.

“It’s still not cool. I’d beat that guy up for you.”

Mark shakes his head, “I’m not a girl.”

“So what? I’ve got your back remember I’m your master of cool. The one and only Jackson Wang.” Jackson fingernails scrape against Mark’s skin, which makes Mark decide he likes this intimacy a bit more than usual.

Sitting here and talking to Jackson is so easy and uncomplicated. Without much thought, Mark’s been sharing more private information about himself to Jackson each time they meet. How has Jackson become such an integral part of his life in such a short period of time?

“I’ll take care of you Mark,” Jackson says, hand leaving Mark’s neck.

Cringing, Mark scratches the back of his neck. “That’s so cheesy who says that? Ugh.” Being around Jackson is a mixture of embarrassment and a good time.

“Don’t deny it you love it.” Jackson nudges Mark with his knee. “Oh you’re smiling, see you love it.”

“Okay stop before I hurt you,” Mark says, pressing his lips together at the end to foil Jackson’s fun. _Or spill my coffee on your lap_ , he adds for himself.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Have you seen the movie where the two guys are undercover cops except they suck at it and someone gets their dick shot off?” Jackson asks, swinging the bag of Thai food takeout as they walk in the direction of the one nice recreational area on campus. Nice meaning the spot has tables and benches to sit on while surrounded by careful landscaping.

Mark’s still not sure how they spent almost two hours in a coffee shop. On the sidewalk next to them, the loud sound of a city bus drives past.

“I don’t think so? What’s it called?” Mark replies. He steers Jackson towards the direction of a table that has a considerable amount of shade in the near distance.

Jackson stops swinging the plastic bag, “I don’t know that’s why I was asking you.”

“Oh.” Mark shrugs, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay I’ll ask JB he’ll know. He finds all that kind of stuff. You should here him complain about the Internet speed. Five, ten minutes about how it sucks.” Jackson pointed at the table Mark wants, “Here?” Mark nods and they keep on walking.

“It does suck, but he downloads too much stuff. Why download porn when you can watch it online? I don’t get it,” Jackson says with conviction.

“Buffering?” Mark really doesn’t know the finer points about watching porn.

Porn is the work of the devil as he’s always been taught to avoid it at all costs. However, Mark isn’t one to judge someone’s baser sins if they do want to watch porn. It’s hard to avoid all human vices with the Internet at ones disposal.

Mark can’t judge when he spent some of his youth looking at art books on anatomy. The shame outweighed the heat in his pants.

They arrive at the table and Mark sits down on one side, stepping into the attached seat and placing his hands on the table in anticipation of food. Jackson sets his bag down on the bench seat next to him after setting the takeout bag on the table.

“You know,” – Jackson takes the takeout cartons out of the plastic bag – “having Thai food reminds me of Bam Bam. He’s how old again?”

“Sixteen.” Mark snaps a pair of wooden chopsticks apart.

“He should meet my friend Yugyeom Kim. They’re the same age and kind of similar...”

Mark’s not paying that much attention to what Jackson is saying because of the food in front of his face. He nods his head as Jackson talks about his other friend Mark hasn’t met. The first bite of Thai curry in his mouth is delicious and well worth the effort spent getting it.

“This is good,” Mark says, dipping his chopsticks into the carton to pick up a thin slice of bamboo shoot. “Want to try?”

Jackson’s lips pull downward, “No I’m good.” He fiddles with his own takeout carton while Mark watches with a grin on his face.

“How’s spice level one?” Mark asks, teasing since he heard Jackson order at the restaurant. He can’t even imagine the pad Thai Jackson’s eating has any flavor with so little spice.

“It’s great. Wait,” – Jackson swallows whatever he’s chewing – “are you teasing me?”

Mark scoops a bite of rice into his mouth and shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe.” He suppresses a small chuckle bubbling up inside of him in favor of not choking on his food. Instead, he mixes up his curry with his chopsticks and hums.

“What is this date? I buy you coffee and dinner and you make fun of me.” Across the table Jackson is pouting.

“Woah woah woah,” Mark says, “We’re not getting married.” He crosses his feet and leans backwards, wishing for a breeze in the late afternoon’s dry heat.

Jackson’s face brightens, “It’s just the first date Mark why are you popping the question?” He picks up a napkin and pats at his forehead, adjusting his cap in the meantime.

Squinting, Mark deflects the question. “Are you sweating?”

“It’s hot,” Jackson says, rubbing the napkin around to the back of his neck. Mark wonders if just breathing the same air as his spicy curry could make Jackson sweat.

“Jackson that’s spice level one.”

“God _Mark_ , don’t be an ass!” Jackson throws his sweaty napkin at Mark.

What a date this is.

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark swung his car keys around his finger in a circle, round and round they went. More or less, the day’s excitement is over, and Jackson needs to get back to his apartment. Mark’s ready to get back home as well since he received a cryptic text from his mom about the next few days.

“You don’t need to come to level five with me,” says Mark. His car’s parked in the fourth floor of the parking structure today. The small size of Jackson’s motorcycle means he’s probably on the second or third floor in the special compact section.

Jackson swings open the heavy door to the set of stairs, “I like the exercise.”

They climb the dirty stairs with different layers of paint peeling off the railing, passing the first three levels, and Mark’s legs start to get tried of their fast pace. When Mark sees the bright blue five painted on the metal door ahead of him, he breathes out a sigh of relief. He needs to play basketball or swim in the pool more often.

“Finally,” Mark says under his breath, but Jackson hears him and pats him on the back.

Jackson takes the final steps two at a time. “You need to get some muscle on your body,” he says as he opens the door. Sunlight from the half open walls spills out from the doorway to counter the brightness of the fluorescent lighting.

“I know.”

Holding the door open, Jackson lets Mark leave the stairwell first, and Mark takes the gesture in kind. He managed to park somewhat near the stairwell when he came in this afternoon, but he’s still a short walk away from his own car.

Mark presses the door unlock button on his key fob, and a short beep and flashing of lights signals his car’s location. His shoes shuffle against the grit on the concrete, “I’m just over there.”

Jackson’s still following him, gym bag strapped to his back, walking with his confident swagger that Mark hasn’t been able to imitate yet. Though, that might be due to how often Jackson wears those awful pants.

“Thanks for coming today, I needed to unwind. I’ll yell at JB and Jinyoung for you,” Jackson says.

Mark smiles, “Sure. I have JB’s phone number now, so…”

They pass the last car before Mark’s car, and Mark loosens his grip on his keys. He should really get going even though traffic will be a pain. As Mark’s walking towards the driver’s side, Jackson calls out his name.

“Hey Mark?”

Mark has his hand on the door handle, “What?”

“Would you want to come watch fencing some time?” Jackson comes closer and leans against the side of the car. “There’s a competition in a few weeks. If you can, of course.”

Mark’s taken aback, Jackson’s only mentioned in passing about being on a fencing team, and he didn’t think they were that serious. Actually, he doesn’t know anything about fencing at all besides people jabbing at each other with pointy sticks.

“Sure, if you come to our spring church picnic with me.”

Jackson’s head drops, a hand going up to touch his forehead, “You’re mean.”

“I’m saving your soul you heathen,” Mark says, cracking a smile and opening his car door.

“My soul doesn’t need saving, I’m…” says Jackson, voice trailing off. Then he mumbles something Mark doesn’t catch, so Mark turns his head back towards Jackson.

“Hmm?”

Jackson steps forward, putting a hand on Mark’s back, invading Mark’s personal space without warning. Confused, Mark tilts his torso back as Jackson’s hand slides up from his back to his neck. Jackson’s hand is warm and heavy, causing Mark’s nerves to fire down his spine.

Opening his mouth, Mark begins to move his lips, “Wha–”

He doesn’t get to finish his question when Jackson tilts his head down and kisses him on straight on the lips. Stumbling, the car door slams shut, making Mark fall towards the side of the car door. Jackson has his hand on Mark’s neck and his other hand resting on Mark’s hip.

Mark is five seconds to freaking out.

He’s too shocked to react more than part his lips before Jackson slowly pulls away. The kiss was clean, simple, and sweet, lasting no more than a few brief seconds. For the second time that day, Mark’s thrown off balance from Jackson.

Everything somehow ends in Jackson.

Breathless, Mark stares at Jackson, blinking at Jackson’s serious expression and lowered eyebrows. His lips feel numb, as does his brain, but a nervous energy grows in him.

Jackson’s hands drop off Mark’s body, and he steps back. “I’m better than Andy right?”

Blankly, Mark’s hand curls around the door handle like it is his lifeline in this stormy sea of uncertainty.

“Y…yeah.” Mark tries to recover, but his voice is gruff and thick with saliva.

Jackson’s serious face falls to a quirky smile, “That’s good. You enjoy the date?”

Mark nods his head because anything he’d say would come out wrong.

“Great…well, I’m going to go.” Jackson points in the direction of the stairwell. “See you soon? I’ll text you about the fencing thing.” He backs away and waves at Mark with one hand, the other fixing the cap on his head.

“Okay…bye,” says Mark at Jackson’s retreating figure.

Dropping his keys on the ground, Mark slaps himself in the face, dragging the skin up and down. No, he can’t think about this right now, he has to concentrate and drive home. He can’t tell anyone about what happened today. Not Bam Bam, not his brother, and definitely not his mom and dad.

He could really use a sign right now.

 

 


	6. Book 3:2

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

“Jaebum!” Jackson runs his hand along the wall, dragging it across the bumps and texture of the plaster. He only brings out JB’s full name when he’s serious, or when he wants something from him. The door to Jaebum’s bedroom is open a crack and the faint sound of music is spilling out of the room.

Jackson pushes the door open with one hand, the other resting on the doorframe. “Just what the hell did you try to pull –” The words stop and slip out of his mouth awkwardly as he spots the scene on JB’s bed, and the surprise catches Jackson off balance.

He grips the doorframe as he tilts to the side, “Woah should I come back later?”

JB, wrapped in a blanket, is on his bed with someone sleeping right next to him. From what Jackson could see, the two of them are spooning, and Jackson didn’t peg JB as the little spoon type of guy.

“Jesus fucking Christ Jackson its just Youngjae.” JB frowns and lifts his head up from his pillow, phone in his hands dropping to the bed.

Jackson lets go of the doorframe and heads over to sit on JB’s desk chair, turning it away from the desk to face JB to his right. “Dude, that’s incest.”

“What?” JB makes a garbling sound in the back of his throat, “No, fuck no that’s…no! You sick fuck.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Sitting up, JB swings his legs over the side of his bed, flinging the blanket over Youngjae. “You were thinking it.”

“Yeah, well you and Jinyoung left me with Mark. A date?” Jackson cackles, sounding like a hyena undergoing a voice change. “You trying to kill me?” He runs a finger in the air across his neck and drops his chin towards his chest.

JB crosses his arms. “So? How’d it go?”

“How’d it go?” Jackson’s tone upturns at the end of the question. “It went great. Amazing. I probably blew it. Thanks.” He rolls backwards using the wheels of the desk chair until he hits the wall behind him.

JB opens his mouth, but Jackson shushes him. “Don’t say anything,” says Jackson, knocking the desk chair back against the wall several times with a loud thud.

On the bed, Youngjae lifts his head, eyes half open and hair sticking up in all directions. He rubs a hand through his hair and frowns, pushing up with his hands on the mattress until he’s on his knees. “Aren’t you and Mark going out?” Youngjae asks, licking his lips.

“No.” Jackson leans back and hits his head on the wall behind him.

“Really?” Youngjae’s voice sounds confused, “I thought you were…”

Why is it that everyone seems to think that Mark’s his boyfriend already? Jackson doesn’t understand where his friends are getting their information, but they are about as dumb as a pile of rocks. Especially Youngjae, who doesn’t know shit about Korean history, and Jackson regrets asking him for help with his Korean research assignment. Obviously he should have asked Jinyoung instead of harassing JB’s self proclaimed Korean enthusiast yet American of a cousin.

“What do you want me to do?” JB stares at Jackson. “I was helping. I thought you asked him out.”

Frustrated, Jackson pushes away from the wall and flies across the wood flooring straight at JB and Youngjae. “Obviously not!” He plants his feet on the floor before he runs into the bed. “His dad’s a preacher, he goes to church every Sunday, see what I’m dealing with?”

“Well…my gaydar thinks he’s gay,” JB states, “because he…he looks gay. I mean he looks like he–” He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger and sticks the pointer finger of his other hand through the hole.

Jackson cocks his head and lowers his eyebrows; “He looks like he’s gay? You don’t have gaydar. I mean I definitely think I have a shot because I’m me, but you know he’s all religious.”

JB didn’t realize Jackson was gay until he caught Jackson making out with a boy on the couch a year into their friendship.

Not going to lie, explaining that situation was hilarious. The look on JB’s face was one of pure shock rivaled only by later realization that the noises JB thought was a girl’s were in fact a boy’s. Thankfully, JB shook off the shock because Jackson liked him and it would have sucked to have to find a new place to live.

“Come on, he totally does,” JB defends himself, uncrossing his arms and using one hand to gesture his point. “He is pretty.”

“He is,” Youngjae parrots as he scoots over on the bed and swings his legs to sit on the side.

“Don’t help him,” says Jackson, “he doesn’t know gay if it slapped him in the face.” Though, JB probably has gotten better at identifying who may or may not like guys since he’s been living with Jackson. He mimes slapping JB in the air in front of him, imagining it’s really JB’s face he’s hitting.

JB wrinkles his forehead, “I do not.”

“Suuure, remember the time when Eric and I were on the couch –”

A flush of red springs to JB’s cheeks, “Nope we’re not talking about this. Get out of my room.” He kicks at Jackson’s chair, sending Jackson spiraling back towards the wall from where he came and making him splay his hands out to keep his balance.

At JB’s side, Youngjae tilts his head and squints his eyes, “What?”

Laughing, Jackson stumbles off the chair to his feet, socks sliding a little over the floor. He fixes his shorts – they were sliding down – and tosses a sideways glance at JB. “You are buying me alcohol and chicken for this.”

Sighing, JB gets off his bed and stands up straight, “What the hell did you do to him?”

Jackson full body cringes, remembering the smooth at the time move he’d pulled over Mark in the parking lot. For one thing, it would be amazing if Mark didn’t think he’s a fucking wacko and never talks to him again. In these instances, Jackson finds it glaringly obvious why he’s only hooked up with people he’d met who are like him. Being that they’re gay and they know it and they can clap their hands.

He grimaces, “I kissed him.”

“So?” JB says with a questioning tone to his voice. He crosses his arms again and gives Jackson a blank stare, “What’s so bad about that? Isn’t that what you want?” He puckers his lips, making a disgusting kissy face, and Jackson stops himself from smashing his hand into JB’s mouth.

Jackson throws his hands in the air, “Because!”

“That isn’t a reason,” Youngjae cuts into the conversation, and both JB and Jackson turn to look at him.

“Shut up Youngjae,” Jackson and JB say at the same time. Youngjae snaps his mouth shut and pulls his lips down into a frown.

“You’re not acting like yourself,” says JB, turning and focusing on Jackson’s face – making Jackson uneasy.

Jackson breathes out a deep breath, “Yeah. I’m thinking too much right?”

“Yes. Stop thinking.”

“Will do.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

“So what do you think?” Mark’s mom hands him the printed out email. “I asked around and a friend of ours gave us this information about a possible school to go to when you graduate. You just need to start thinking about recommendations.”

The paper in Mark’s hands frightens him more than it should. “Uh…” His mouth goes dry and he can only nod his head.

“You have half a year so you’ll be fine. Your father’s really excited and we’ll go tour this summer. Of course we’ll find a second school to apply to, but this one is the best.”

All Mark wants is to go lie face down in his bed and stay there for as long as it might take for this nightmare to be over. First Jackson kisses him the parking structure, and now his parents have decided for him where he’s going to school. He doesn’t know what to do with his life, but he sure as hell wants to have a say in it.

However, he’s at a loss for what to say.

Mark only wants to pass psychology this semester and pass the rest the rest of his classes too. The paper he’s holding is going to go on his desk to disappear until the next time his parents bring it up. Unease settles in his stomach, the start of a slow festering burn he’ll have to face one day. But today is not that day.

“Ok. I’ll be in my room.”

His mom smiles and pats him on the back, and even though Mark smiles in return, it’s not a full smile. In the living room, he can hear his brother and Bam Bam playing video games. The door to his parents office is half shut, but the light is on, so his dad is probably inside preparing a sermon.

“Mark?” His mom grabs his elbow as he’s turning around, “Is there something wrong with your lips?”

“No?” Mark shakes his head.

“You keep licking them so I thought maybe you need something…never mind then.”

Mark purses his lips and shakes his head again, is he really licking his lips a lot? He resists the urge to touch them in front of her. She lets him go, walking over to the dishwasher and opening up the latch. Free, Mark flees out of the kitchen and heads for his room where he’s safe from having to be social.

He tosses the paper on his desk then collapses on his bed, curling over onto his side and breathing deep into his pillowcase. The smell of unwashed sheets somewhat comforts him from the barrage of one confusing event after another. Rolling over onto his other side, Mark opens his eyes to stare at the wall across from him. In bold letters, a poster on his wall spells out ‘W.W.J.D?’

What would Jackson do?

Mark slaps his hands over his face and rubs the heel of his palms into his eyes. No, the phrase is Jesus not Jackson. Everything is Jackson this Jackson that, Jackson would be able to figure out what he wants. He probably has a plan for what to do after college. A surge of bitterness bubbles up inside Mark.

Sucking in his cheeks, Mark bites down, teeth sinking into thick muscle. Can he stop thinking about Jackson for more than a few minutes? Yet, warmth spreads over his cheeks, causing him to curl up into a fetal position. The sensation piles up like a fiery excitement that falls in layers the more he tries to distract and clear his mind.

Mark lets go of his cheeks, having abused them enough, and rolls over onto his back. Blowing out a deep breath, Mark vows to forget about the avalanche of problems rolling down his back. The day had begun so promising, a game of basketball, a phone call and the chance to hang out with friends, and then the date with Jackson.

No, Mark’s not thinking about that anymore. If he does, he’s just going to lose his mind. Jackson’s probably kidding anyway; it’s his personality.

He’s still not completely sure how he made it home from the parking structure.

Sitting up, Mark rubs his thighs before standing and picking up his play station controller off the floor. Destruction, mayhem, and death are the ingredients for the best distraction to his problem.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

“What wrong with you? You let me land that easy point.” Yugyeom stops in front of Jackson, water bottle in hand, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.

Jackson dabs at the back of his neck with a towel, “Just out of it today.”

Yugyeom shrugs, “You better fix it, dad looks like he’s going to burst a blood vessel. You’re really off today.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s okay, I’ll be better tomorrow,” Jackson says and drops the towel on the pile of his things on the floor of the gym. His mind had been racing the previous night, replaying the date with Mark over and over again. Insomnia plagued him until he finally fell asleep somewhere between two and three in the morning.

Four hours of sleep later and here he is, sluggish and tired, at the second to last day of the fencing camp. His eye bags feel like they are going to rebel and slip off his face to the floor any minute now.

“Tomorrow’s the last day. Can’t wait to be done, mom’s taking me out to ice cream.” Yugyeom smiles, giving Jackson a thumbs up with his free hand.

Jackson tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly, the wheels in his brain slowly turning. “You’re on spring break now aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Yugyeom’s face lights up in a cheeky grin, “Started today. Whole seven days off.”

“You suck,” says Jackson. Figures the teenager in front of him gets his break uninterrupted by fencing camps. He’s probably going to lie around at home and grow another three inches just to spite him while Jackson has to start classes again in three days.

Yugyeom lets out a laugh, “You’re just old.” He tosses his water bottle on the ground. “You really should get some sleep when we’re done.”

“I’ll try. You know what they say? I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“You’re going to be dead if you keep letting me land points,” Yugyeom points out.

Jackson shitty performance is likely going to get him his ass chewed out later by their coach for not putting in enough effort. Not for lack of trying, Jackson really is too tired to go through the motions today. His reaction times have been getting slower and slower with each hour, and soon he might be lying on the mat.

“Come to my funeral?” Jackson says, adding a hint of sarcasm to his question for Yugyeom to pick up.

“Of course. I’ll even cry.”

Jackson puts a hand on Yugyeom’s shoulder, pushing him forward and back towards the practice mats. “As you should.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Nora’s fangs sink into Jackson’s hand, sharp points making him retract his hand as fast as possible. He lets Nora jump to the floor and watches her lick her paws with disdain. First she asks for a pet by walking over his lap then turns against him and bites. Jackson grimaces, shaking his hand in the air.

His phone lying on the couch cushion next to him chirps.

Pain forgotten, Jackson lunges for the phone, unlocking the screen and checking for the response. The reply takes a second to pop up in his phone’s messenger app, sending a brief blip of nervousness through his chest. After a very quick second, the app loads and shows one new message from Jinyoung.

Jackson lets out a noise of frustration and drops his phone down on the couch. Jinyoung isn’t the one he wants a reply from. Picking his phone back up, Jackson takes the time to read what Jinyoung has to say, and types out a four-word response telling him to just come over. How is he supposed to know when JB is going to get back from the grocery store?

JB probably got lost in the wine and spirits section again looking at all the pretty bottles. Everyone knows he’s going to buy cheap beer and vodka anyway even though he wastes time pretending like he’s going to invest in that twenty-dollar bottle of scotch no one will drink. No one brings scotch to a jello shot sort of crowd.

“Noraaaa,” says Jackson, lonely enough to be talking to the pet cat, “come back and let me pet you?” She turns her head, ears swiveling in his direction, wide eyes unblinking. Jackson snaps his fingers, “Nora, Nora, Nora,” he repeats.

She flicks her tail and walks away from him, so much for that attempt to bond with JB’s cat.

Fencing camp is over, signaling the end of hell week, and the near end of spring break. With only two days left before classes start up again, there’s only two nights for Jackson to get drunk off his ass like a good college student. Since he’s meeting his parents on Sunday for brunch, he can’t even go all out on Saturday.

He’s developing a love hate relationship with fencing and his social life.

Flipping through the TV channels, Jackson tries to find something appealing enough to watch besides the top fifty music videos countdown that always seems to be playing. JB’s probably another thirty minutes out from getting back from the store. He settles on watching a basketball game over the nightly news.

Ten minutes later a loud knock comes from the front door.

“It’s open,” yells Jackson, too lazy to get off the couch.

The door swings open and Jinyoung is standing on the other side wearing a bright red shirt and jean shorts, “How do you know it’s me? I could be a murderer?” He steps in and closes the door behind him with wide eyes.

Jackson leans deeper into the couch, resting his elbow on the arm, “Because you have our third key for the downstairs door.” Three bedrooms, three keys, but with only JB and Jackson living in the apartment, they’d given the extra key to Jinyoung since he comes over so often. Jackson’s parents have yet to ask for the third key back.

“Oh, yeah.” Jinyoung strides over, crossing in front of Jackson, and falls down onto the other side of the couch. “So, is JB getting the beer?”

“Yeah, he’s probably buying the whole store with how long he’s been gone,” says Jackson, scooting over to bring his legs up on the couch. “You bring something?”

Jinyoung pats his thighs, “No.”

“So cheap,” – Jackson extends his leg and pushes Jinyoung’s thigh – “next time you buy.”

“I bought last time!” Jinyoung counters, crossing his arms. “You owe me.”

Raising his finger towards the ceiling, Jackson gestures to make his next point. “Then you should buy beer next.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jinyoung says.

“What’s there to think about? It’s a trade off –” The blasting of Jackson’s ringtone cuts off the rest of what Jackson’s going to say. “Just wait.” Jackson picks up his phone and a wave of excitement flows over him, elevating his mood like nothing else. The picture of him and Mark he took when they went shopping together from what seems like months ago brightens up his phone screen.

God, they look cute together.

Mark has never called him before, and Jackson doesn’t know what to do, so he releases a short low-pitched monosyllabic yelp. They haven’t really talked since the ‘date day,’ and it’s not for Jackson’s lack of trying.

“What?” Jinyoung asks, but Jackson ignores him and picks up the call.

“Hello?” Jackson pushes Jinyoung, who has taken to crawling next to him, away with his free hand. Nosey Jinyoung trying to figure out whom he’s talking to on the phone, hands worming around Jackson’s back to get closer to the phone speakers.

On the other end, Mark speaks quietly, making Jackson ask him to repeat his question that came out as a jumble of words.

“What? Your car what? Huh I can’t hear? Well…yeah of course…No I don’t know, but I can come get you. Right now? Sure, where are you? No no no, it’s not a problem. I’ll be there in fifteen. Yes, bye.” Jackson jumps up from the couch and stretches his back for a quick second, spine straightening from his earlier slouched position.

Jackson isn’t sure what trouble Mark got into, but he has to go retrieve him for peace of mind.

He pats his shorts pocket, feeling if his wallet is still on his person, and thankfully it’s still there. Shoes, jacket, and helmet left and he’ll be off to get Mark in the parking lot of the nearby outdoor mall about ten minutes away by bike.

Jinyoung’s voice breaks Jackson’s concentration, “What was that?”

Right, he’s supposed to have a night in with Jinyoung and JB tonight.

“I have to go pick up Mark,” – Jackson hops around on one foot, trying to get his shoe on – “something’s wrong with his car, or him, or both. I don’t know.”

“Oh?” Jinyoung’s tone is dripping with intrigue. “Bring him back with you.”

Slipping his other shoe on, Jackson shrugs his shoulders, “Maybe.” He’s not entirely in the mood to have Mark come over when JB and Jinyoung are around to tease him about Mark. They’d be dropping hints left and right, and likely scare Mark away when all Jackson wants is to bring him closer.

He’s so fucking close that he already knows what Mark tastes like, and wants the flavor to linger on his tongue while he gets more physically acquainted with the finer points of Mark’s body. Calm down, Jackson takes a moment to tell himself, he told Mark he’d be there in fifteen, not thirty with a quick stop in the bathroom and Jinyoung’s condescending laugh to take care of a _growing_ problem.

No one but himself needs to know how much he’s fantasized about Mark wearing alter boy clothes, sitting on his lap, and sucking on his bottom lip. Horns are practically sprouting from his forehead at the thought. Next year for Halloween he’s going as the devil.

Opening the hall closet door, Jackson slips his riding jacket off its hanger. Shrugging the jacket on, Jackson snaps both arms forward, making his arms slide into the sleeves.

“Let JB know okay?” says Jackson, halfway out the front door after picking up his helmet from the floor. “Gotta go.” Mark, he needs to get to Mark and find out if he’s okay.

He hears Jinyoung yell back at him as the door closes shut behind him.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Hey, where are you? I’m here.” Jackson speaks fast into his phone; almost forgetting to make sure his motorcycle is secured before hurrying across the big parking lot. His shoes scrape against uneven pavement in his hurry to find Mark. The glass of his phone screen pressing into his face and digging into his ear feels so insignificant in his haste.

He weaves in between rows of cars in the direction of where he assumes Mark will be.

 _“I can see you, keep coming,”_ Mark says in his ear.

Jackson turns his head from side to side, “I can’t see you yet.”

_“That’s because you’re looking in the wrong direction. I’m straight ahead.”_

“What?” Jackson fumbles, lost and disoriented in his search for Mark in the sea of cars and brightly colored storefronts. “I don’t –” Then he sees Mark leaning against a pillar in front of one of the shops. “Oh, I see you.”

Mark waves, _“I’m going to hang up.”_

“Okay.” Jackson brings the phone away from his face and stuffs it in his shorts pocket. He walks at a fast pace to meet Mark, who has pushed away from the pillar and is heading towards him.

They meet in the middle, and Jackson pauses to take in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” – Mark fusses with his shirt – “You’re the closest person I know nearby.”

Jackson shakes his head, “It’s okay. What happened?” Mark appears to be okay, he has all four limbs and body parts Jackson’s accustomed to both seeing and touching.

“I got a flat tire.”

The bubble of nagging worry that has been hovering over Jackson’s thoughts bursts, flooding him with a sense of relief.

“How?” Jackson shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his feeling of worry now turning into questioning. The shit he does when the name Mark is involved.

Mark shrugs, throwing his hands up in the air, “I don’t know, I ran over something sharp?”

“I thought you were in an accident or something when you called,” Jackson says powerfully, emphasizing his concern, “you scared me. What if you were run over on the street? Blood everywhere and calling me to come save you because I would.”

“I’d call 911 first not you.”

“Hey, it could happen. You still scared me.”

Mark’s eyes avert to the ground, “Sorry I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, pausing to clear his throat, “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s okay, seriously. But you don’t need to get a flat tire to call me. Haven’t heard from you much.” A subtle hint drops from Jackson’s mouth to flush out the reason why Mark hasn’t been texting the past two days.

“Who’s fault is that?” Mark says, the line of his mouth straight and serious, “My dad’s coming by in an hour to get the car. You think you could drive me?”

 _Who’s fault?_ Jackson raises an eyebrow, “Woah woah woah, what?”

“I’m stuck here, can you drive me?” Mark rephrases, but Jackson notices he’s still avoiding the real question.

“No, before that. Is this about Wednesday? I’ve got you covered, I took care of JB and Jinyoung.” A little white lie never hurt anyone, and Jackson did talk to JB about what his and Jinyoung’s little surprise the other day. Whatever Jackson tells JB somehow ends up in the ears of Jinyoung anyway because JB can’t keep his mouth shut and is a Korean gossip.

On more than one occasion Jackson has had his head spin from trying to keep up with Jinyoung and JB’s fast-talking.

Mark’s blank face crumbles and he lets loose a laugh, “You did?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, “I let them have it with these.” He lifts up his arms and flexes his biceps to prove his point. “See? Total destruction. They didn’t stand a chance. Why are you laughing?”

Mark doesn’t even try to hide his amusement, “You’re a dork.”

“A dork? What does that mean? Are you insulting me?”

“D-u-m-b,” Mark emphasizes, “you’re dumb.”

Jackson puffs out his chest, “You’re the one with a flat tire and you call me a _dork_?” He takes a step forward, crowding Mark’s personal space, and stares Mark straight in the eye. “I deserve some thanks. And maybe a backrub.”

“I said thanks,” Mark complains, voice short and irritated. He takes a step to the side, moving away from Jackson. “And I’m not giving you a backrub.”

“Well, can’t say I didn’t try,” says Jackson. He reaches into his pocket to pull his phone out and check the time; it’s only 6:49PM. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. Seriously.”

Mark nods his head, and Jackson begins to walk forward again, crossing a row in the parking lot. Unfortunately, Jackson parked his motorcycle on the other end of the parking lot since he had no idea where Mark was when he was driving in to the outdoor mall. They walk without saying much, except for the stray comment of how nice the breeze feels tonight.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jackson asks, his hand reaching up to touch Mark on his back unconsciously. “Do something fun? Or do you need to get back home?” Jackson has one place in mind in particular to take Mark, and it holds a special meaning to him.

Mark’s eyes peer straight into Jackson’s, “Yeah sure. Can we? I'm stuck-k," - his voice stutters - "here anyway."

“Hell yeah.” Jackson starts to turn Mark in the direction of his motorcycle – off the side to their right – when a problem dawns on him by looking at the helmet in his hand. “Shit.”

Mark falls in step next to him, and stops a few steps ahead. “What?”

“I only brought one helmet.” Jackson bangs the helmet he has in hand against his leg. “I’m so dumb.”

“Then drive safe idiot.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on me Mark! Now we’re going crash for sure.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon


	7. Book 4:1

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

His life’s one mess after another in a series of mounting problems that is easier to ignore than deal with. When he’s with Jackson, Mark doesn’t have to think about the nagging responsibilities looming in the future. Except, now his personal escape has become mixed up in chaos and confusion. He’s dealing with a blender full of emotion and someone forgot to put the lid on before pressing blend.

One thing is for sure; Jackson doesn’t seem to notice Mark’s apprehension, thankfully. After Wednesday, Mark hasn’t been able to think the same way about Jackson. What is Jackson to him besides an enigma wrapped in shiny packaging?

“We’re here,” Jackson says, voice muffled by the helmet he’s wearing, and turns the engine off.

Peeling his arms away from Jackson’s waist, Mark does his best to slip off the back of the motorcycle without disturbing Jackson’s fiddling. His thighs feel relief in getting off the motorcycle, loosening their tension from gripping so tight. Mark stretches his tense muscles as Jackson swings his leg over, pulling off his helmet in quick succession.

“I used to come here with my mom before we moved back to Hong Kong, we’d get ice cream once a week,” – Jackson drops the keys into his pocket – “I was really happy to see them open when I came back for school. You ever been here?”

The small storefront Jackson had parked the motorcycle in front of has a sun faded red awning and several white metal café tables set up out front. Window paint art colors the front window with pictures of banana splits, turtle sundaes, and summer specials. Besides appearing like a remodeling would put a fresh take on an outdated store, there must be something special inside that keeps the customers returning. With the sun starting to set in the sky, the bright string of lights hanging at the top of the front windows seem to glow like fireflies.

“I don’t think so,” Mark says, “don’t remember.”

Jackson’s feeding change into the meter and turns his head away from the ticking clock back towards Mark. “Really? I thought you would have.”

“I haven’t been everywhere.” Mark steps up on the curb, crossing his arms.

Jackson drops one final coin in the meter, “Why not?” He scratches his nose and puts his wallet away, stepping up on the curb and motioning Mark to follow him to the entrance of the store. He’s swinging his motorcycle helmet in his hand, “They make really good banana splits here.”

The door squeaks when Jackson opens it and a rush of air-conditioned air blasts them in the face from above. A local pop radio station plays overhead as a family with small children licks cones with dripping ice cream and a group of teenagers speak with voices too loud. Mark nudges Jackson with his elbow, “What should I get?”

“It’s all good, but –” Jackson points to the middle menu sign on the wall, “share a banana split with me since I picked you up.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a least you can do okay? Reward me.” Jackson strides forward and approaches the bored looking teenage boy at the counter with swagger to his step. “A three scoop banana split please, two spoons. We’re going to share.” He tilts his head back and lets out a high-pitched chuckle, flashing an obnoxious grin with too much teeth.

A wave of embarrassment runs through Mark, Jackson’s one of those people who besides being a great people person should be locked up from time to time.

“Sure,” the worker says, “you want nuts or no nuts?” He picks up a metal ice cream scoop and not soon after his hand disappears into a large tub of vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah, I like nuts. Mark, you like nuts?” Jackson still has that grin on his face while he leans against the speckled pick up counter.

Mark uncrosses his arms and lets his hands dangle at his sides. “Yeah they’re okay.” What is all this business about liking nuts?

“Go heavy on the nuts,” Jackson tells the worker, watching him cut a banana in half and places the halves on either side of the three scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Hey Jackson I’ll pay,” says Mark; taking his wallet out of his pants, he’s sure he has a ten dollar bill inside. “For picking me up.” As Jackson said earlier, it’s really the least he can do.

“Oh.” Jackson raises his eyebrows, “Sure, thanks. I should pick you up more often.” He steps aside and lets Mark stand next to him by the counter. The worker is finishing up with their banana split, spraying whipped cream over the top and dropping the cherry in the middle.

Mark hands over his ten as Jackson takes the ice cream off the counter. He pockets his change and follows a few steps behind Jackson, unsure of where he’s going. Jackson heads straight for the door, pushing it open with his back instead of using his full hands, leaving the cool air behind them.

“I want to eat outside,” Jackson says as Mark catches the door with both hands before it closes on him. “It’s nice today.” He sets the ice cream in its tray down on the nearest café table.

Trailing, Mark sits down opposite of Jackson, scooting his chair in while Jackson digs into the banana split without a care in the world.

Jackson slowly pops the spoon out of his mouth, “This tastes like heaven.” He scoops up another spoonful and Mark smiles around the spoon in his own mouth. “How’ve you been?” Jackson asks in between licking off his spoon. “Besides breaking your car.”

“I didn’t break it!” Mark says, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“So it’s the roads fault?”

“Yes.” Mark rests an elbow on the table, letting a pause of silence fall over them. Jackson’s good at filling up silence since he always has something to say; however, Mark’s never been big on words. He forces his mouth to speak, “I’ve been good. Busy, but good.”

Jackson pulls his spoon out of his mouth, “The good kind of busy?” He tilts his head to the side in question, reminding Mark of a needy dog.

“No.” Considering he’s spent the last two days worrying about seminary school, Mark doesn’t believe he’s been the good kind of busy. “But school’s starting again Monday. You?”

The family from inside the store spills out of the front doors, interrupting the flow of conversation since they both look over their shoulder to see what is making all the noise. Jackson bumps his knee on the top of the table with a loud knock, causing him to drip ice cream down the metal grates, and making Mark wish they’d brought some napkins outside.

Rubbing his knee, Jackson surrenders the chunk of banana Mark’s been eyeing to scoop up. “God, what were we talking about again?”

“You,” Marks says around half chewed banana. “How’s fencing?”

Jackson stares off to the upper left, “It’s…doing good. I’m a little sore from training camp, coach worked us hard. Oh, I’ve got to have my teammate meet your little foreign kid sometime they’re the same age.”

“Bam Bam?” says Mark.

“Yeah,” Jackson replies, scraping his spoon in the ice cream tray, “Bam Bam. Yugyeom’s a gentle giant who could distract him so we can play.”

“I guess, Bam Bam might be staying for another school year if he wants.” Mark shrugs, “I’m not sure how his exchange program works.”

“Another year?” Jackson scoops up the cherry and says with a soft voice that Mark’s not sure was meant for him, “Shit.”

Frowning, Mark points his spoon at Jackson, “Hey.”

Jackson looks up at Mark, head leaning back, “What?” His eyebrows rise in surprise, “You want the cherry?”

“Not that, but yes.”

Laughing that hyena laugh of his, Jackson waves his spoon in the air, “You’re too late. Should have taken it before I did.”

“I paid, let me have it,” Mark says, “be the good Samaritan.” He frowns and does the very best sad eyes expression he can muster.

“Is that a religious thing again? I’m really not that good of a person like you Mark, but you’re not sunshine and roses either,” Jackson grumbles, “here.” He leans forward and the next thing Mark sees is Jackson’s spoon in front of his face. “You can have it for being so damn cute.”

Mark isn’t going to miss this opportunity, so he chomps down on Jackson’s spoon and slips the cherry into his mouth, savoring the sweetness it’s been preserved in. While he’s chewing, Jackson sighs loudly, resting his cheek on his hand.

“What?” Mark swallows, eyes flitting from the little remaining ice cream to Jackson’s face.

Jackson’s smile is gentle, a soft upwards curl of his lips. “You’re cute.”

A fluttering sensation throws Mark’s stomach in a loop, and he can already feel the awkwardness settle in to sit and stay a while besides him. “I’m not cute.” He avoids Jackson’s gaze and watches the cars pass by them on the street. Hopefully, the sun will set faster and then Jackson won’t see how his ears are burning.

“Yes you are.”

Without warning, Mark’s slipping back to Wednesday, back to the rolling flutter in his chest he’d dealt with in the parking structure. The air feels heavy with something other than the dry warmth of the fading sun. Jackson’s words excite him in the way he’s supposed to feel towards someone else – someone like Jenny from literature class.

“Then why don’t you just take a picture if you like it so much?” Mark shoves his spoon into his mouth, and after the question leaves his lips the thought dawns on him that he has given Jackson a free pass to tease him.

Jackson grins, “I happen to have my phone right here.” He shifts in his seat, one hand pulling out a wallet and phone from his shorts. “Sit there and look pretty, I know that’s not hard for you.” His thumb flies across his phone screen and Mark bites down on the plastic spoon.

“Okay now smile for me,” says Jackson, holding the phone in front of him. Mark concentrates on the bright white light near the camera while giving his most uninterested face. “That’s not smiling, but…still cute.” The camera flashes, leaving Mark momentarily blinded by the bright flash.

Mark spits out his spoon. “Why are you always taking pictures?”

“Because I like to look at them.” Jackson sets down his phone; “I like to show you off to people.”

“You don’t.”

“Okay I show my parents, but you’re my _good_ friend and I like you.”

Mark tosses his spoon into the ice cream tray; it falls into the slop of melted ice cream. He’s about to let Jackson’s strange habit slide, until he remembers the picture they’d taken on Wednesday. “Do you still have that one picture?”

“What one?” Jackson asks. “I have a lot you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Mark lowers his voice, “The one from Wednesday.” One simple – not so simple – picture had caused him a whole days worth of inner turmoil, and here Jackson’s passing it off like it’s no concern to him.

“That’s um, my favorite one. It’s just.” Jackson fumbles with his words in a way Mark’s not used to hearing from him. “Yeah, Wednesday our date. When we went to my coffee shop, I mean not my coffee shop, I don’t own a coffee shop I’m just a college student. But yeah, I’ve got a picture from Wednesday.”

“Oh.” Mark doesn’t know what to say in response to Jackson’s babbling.

He wets his lips and they tingle like they did two days ago when Jackson kissed him.

“Hey, is it getting really muggy outside or is it me?” Jackson fans his face with his hand. “Hot, hot, hot.”

“The weather’s weird today,” Mark begins to say, but then peers off in the distance behind Jackson and notices how dark the sky is getting – more dark than normal for a sunset. “It looks bad.” He gestures for Jackson to turn around and see the darkening sky.

“What is that?” Jackson asks, and then a white flash streaks down the sky, standing out against the dark clouds. “Lightning?” Except for the curious lightning far in the distance, the sky is calm without noise or rain. “It hasn’t rained in a month.”

“Heat lightning,” Mark says, squinting to see better, “it might rain…wait.” He remembers that his dad is supposed to be taking care of his car that’s stuck in a parking lot somewhere. Reaching into his shorts pocket, Mark takes out his cell phone to check his messages. His phone shows one message, from his dad five minutes ago, that he was putting on the spare.

Mark types back a quick response in thanks. “My dad’s fixing my tire.”

Jackson isn’t paying attention, eyes focusing on the dark clouds behind them, lips mouthing voiceless sounds.

“Hey Jackson. Jackson. _Jackson._ Listen.”

Startled, Jackson whips his head around, “What?”

“My dad’s fixing my tire right now.” Mark flashes Jackson a small smile, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Oh.” Jackson pauses, shifting around in his seat, “Do you want to go home? Or something else…” His voice sounds hopeful as his sentence trails off unfinished.

“Not really.” Mark doesn’t want to admit it, but even though he’s unsure what’s going on between him and Jackson right now, he doesn’t want to stop. Jackson’s face crinkles into a genuine smile, making Mark’s stomach flip.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Jackson asks, tone serious, his bold eyebrows striking on his face. “JB and Jinyoung are over for the night. You could stay too…with me.”

Mark swallows to wet his dry mouth, “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

His stomach rolls the whole drive back to Jackson’s apartment.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Fried chicken fried chicken fried chicken,” JB chants with one piece of fried chicken in each hand and waving them around like a pair of maracas.

Jackson drops his motorcycle helmet near the front door, “What the hell did I just walk into?”

The television is playing some loud commercial, flashing bright colors and unnecessary sound effects. On the couch, sit JB and Jinyoung with a bucket of fried chicken on the coffee table in front of them, and an open bottle of rum and a liter of coca cola not too far away.

JB turns his head towards the door, “Heeeey Jackson! You brought Mark! Hey Mark!” Crumbs from the fried chicken skin fall off his face. “Come join us.”

Mark toes his shoes off and shrugs as Jackson gives him a look; they’re Jackson’s friends first. He’s yet to witness all of JB and Jinyoung’s peculiarities even though he’s hung out with them many a time the past few months. He learns something new about the two each time he meets them. For example, JB’s a cat lover with a photo album full of cat pictures and Jinyoung blurts out in Korean with a dialect when he’s excited.

“Are you two drunk already? Fucking losers.” Jackson puts his hands on his hips, “What is this, KFC and rum and coke?” JB flips him off and sets down the bone from the drumstick he was eating on a plate.

“We were going to share, but then you left to go play with Mark,” Jinyoung answers, licking his fingertips. “And you brought him back for me. Come sit by me.” He pats the empty spot to his right on the couch.

Mark walks past Jackson and sits down next to Jinyoung, who puts an arm around his should the second his butt hits the couch. Reaching over Jinyoung, Mark helps himself to a piece of fried chicken out of the bucket. The fried chicken isn’t hot anymore, but neither are the pieces cold, which is just fine for eating.

“Do you want a drink Mark?” asks Jackson from in the kitchen, digging around in the cabinets.

Mark’s glances at JB and Jinyoung and decides he isn’t in the mood to drink more than one drink. But, he could go for something to take the edge off the night. “Yeah, just one.”

“What do you want? Vodka? Rum? Some of this stuff that tastes like cherries?” Jackson pulls out a bottle that Mark’s never seen before from the depths of the overhead cabinets. “You’re a cherry kind of guy.”

JB starts to cough into his drink, hitting his chest with his fist while Jinyoung laughs and pats his back.

“You like cherries?” Jinyoung grins, his whole face lighting up, “Jackson loves eating cherries, you two make a good match.” JB coughs even louder leaving Mark to wonder if he’s going to be okay.

“Don’t listen to him,” says Jackson, making his way to the couch with two empty glasses in hand and the bottle of cherry flavored liquor under his arm. “He’s stupid.”

Jinyoung lurches forward, “What? Say that to my face.”

Jackson set the glasses and bottle down on the coffee table, “Down boy.” He pushes Jinyoung back into his seat. “I know you’re not stupid, you’re an idiot!” Jackson laughs and settles down on the floor opposite of them on the couch.

“If I’m an idiot,” – Jinyoung points his thumb at this chest then his pointer finger at Jackson – “then you’re a bigger idiot.”

Clearing his throat, JB cuts into the argument, “Not this again.” His voice drags, annoyance evident and gruff from coughing liquid out of his lungs. “Jinyoung wins.”

Mark chews on his chicken wing and watches the emotion of betrayal splay out on Jackson’s expressive face. His eyebrows scrunching, eyes narrowing and cheeks pulling lips back tight.

“What? JB I’m your roommate.” Jackson slaps a hand down on the coffee table. “Be on my side.”

“I like Jinyoung better,” says JB, patting Jinyoung on the back once.

Jinyoung breaks out into a huge smile, “Aww thanks Jaebum.”

Jackson scoffs, unscrewing the cap off the liquor bottle roughly, “Don’t play favorites.” He picks the bottle up and pours alcohol into the two cups, slopping several drops on the coffee table from carelessness.

“You too,” JB says, tipping his glass. “Mark,” he adds before taking a drink.

Mark picks up the drink Jackson has made for him and leans over to see past Jinyoung’s body towards JB, “What?”

“Just drink Mark.” Jackson’s bold voice interrupts Mark from receiving an answer.

“Fine, don’t bite my head off.” Mark shakes it off, tipping back his cup to take the first sip. The alcohol tingles his mouth, stronger than he’s anticipating, but reminds him of a cherry coke. Swallowing, he gives Jackson a thumbs up for a job well done. “It’s good.”

Jackson’s face is an interesting shade of red.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

A loud obnoxious sound comes from Mark’s shorts, disturbing him from throwing pieces of balled up napkin at Jackson’s head a few feet away from him. Jinyoung’s on the floor teasing Nora with a long toy wand, and JB’s stumbling around on his way back to the living room from the bathroom.

The television is playing songs from an Internet radio station, and Mark’s boring generic ringtone sounds out of place.

“Mark, answer your phone,” Jinyoung says, flicking the wand and making Nora do a flip in the air. “Oh damn did you guys see that?”

Jackson claps his hands, “Make her do it again.”

“Right,” – Mark leans back to fit his hands into his pocket – “it’s my mom.” A spike of fear hits him in the chest. “What do I do?” He’s somewhere between the realm of tipsy and drunk because one drink turned into two thanks to Jinyoung. It’s 8:51PM and he forgot to check back in with his family. The issue with how he’s going to get home flashes alarm bells in his mind.

Jackson crawls towards him, “Answer it. It’s your mom.”

Mark panics, “But what if she knows?”

“God you’re not going to struck down for drinking, here.” Jackson gets up on his knees, one hand bracing himself on Mark’s knee, and grabs the phone right out of Mark’s hands. “Hi Mrs. Tuan this is Jackson.”

Mark makes a strangled noise from the back of his throat, afraid of what Jackson might say to his mom.

“He’s fine, sorry about not calling earlier.” Jackson slaps Mark’s attempts to get the phone back and moves away. “Yeah, we’re doing good…that’s good about the car…oh, we’re probably going to be hanging out late so I’ll drive him over tomorrow morning. Okay, have a good night. Bye.”

Jackson tosses Mark’s phone at him, and it lands straight in his lap. “Your welcome now you’re staying over.”

“How did you do that?” Mark sets his phone down on the coffee table. It’s no wonder Jackson’s good at these types of things that Mark has no experience with except through television.

Running a hand through his hair, Jackson shrugs his shoulders. “I have experience. Lesson one Mark, always sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s the master at bullshitting,” Jinyoung says while rolling over onto his back.

“What’s lesson two then?” Mark asks, watching Jackson sit back down near him on the floor. He wets his lower lip with his tongue then runs his teeth over his lip, a bad habit. JB finds his way back to the couch, swearing profusely in Korean after stubbing his toe on the coffee table.

Glancing up, Jackson smiles and tilts his head to the side, “A little confidence goes a long way.” He leans over and picks up the rum bottle, sloshing the remaining contents from side to side. “Want another drink?” he says with a devious undertone in his question.

Mark eyes flit from the rum bottle to Jackson’s face. There’s an obvious challenge lingering in the air; however, Mark isn’t sure he understands the game. What he does know is that he’s not going to be the pawn – he’s going to be the bishop. For once Mark’s going to move ahead more than one step at a time.

He grins, “Bring it.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

The sound of Jinyoung snoring bleeds through the rap music booming through the TV speakers. Mark’s fingers slip and the marker in his hand draws a jagged line across Jinyoung’s cheek, ruining the elaborate design he had in mind. “Oops.” Laughter spills out from his lips because everything is so funny and it’s funny how Jackson has markers in his apartment anyway.

“Look at Jinyoung,” Mark says, hitting JB on the shoulder. “Look at his face.”

JB rubs his eyes, “Is that a – a penis?”

Mark caps the marker, closing his mouth to trap some sniggers and sounding like he swallowed a tuba, “Yes.” He’s rather proud of his penis drawing and how he really tried to capture the essence of the organ. His cheeks feel so warm and his body bubbly with happiness.

“My little rebel! Drawing his first penis,” says Jackson, waving his arms in the air and making Mark feel dizzy, “Seriously though.” Jackson clasps a hand on Mark’s shoulder, voice lowering, “Penis. We should compare sizes, what are you packing in there Mark? I’ve seen JB’s dick and yeah I–”

JB groans from deep in his throat, “We are _not_ looking at dick.” He picks up two cards from the draw pile. “Don’t tell Mark about my dick I will kick you.”

“Don’t be such a little bitch,” says Jackson. He cups his mouth with one hand in Mark’s direction, “It’s like the size of a baby car–”

Mark covers his mouth to hide the giant grin he’s sporting as JB sets his cards down and pushes Jackson into the floor, shaking him by the shoulders and crushing him with his weight.

“Shut the fuck up you want to cry?” JB grabs Jackson’s left nipple and twists it cruelly, “Huh?”

Mark had no idea JB has such violent tendencies and finds himself cheering JB on in Jackson’s expense. Seeing Jackson groaning on the floor in pain excites him in a perverse way that doesn’t align with the ‘be good to your neighbor’ teaching. But, God’s always punishing people and heaven knows Jackson needs to be punished.

The whole pillar of salt thing isn’t really that useful; however, they could rim a lot of margarita glasses with what’s left of Jackson’s body.

“Whose turn is it?” Mark asks when JB climbs off Jackson, leaving him curled up in a ball.

“Yours.” JB returns to his place on the floor.

Mark picks up his cards, they look like a jumble of colors and he can’t concentrate on what is what. “How many cards do I need?” He thumbs a card out of his hand. Can he even play this card on the pile? He shouldn’t have had the rest of the drink Jinyoung had created for him – it tasted vile anyway.

Clutching his nipples, Jackson’s face is flushed, or that might be the alcohol. “How many do you have?”

“I’ve got…” Mark tries to count. “I’ve got.” This is too hard. “I’ve got seven.”

Jackson flashes his cards, suit side up, revealing his entire hand. “I’ve got seven too!”

“You guys, you need eight to play,” JB says then he throws his cards down on the floor, “That’s it. I’m going to bed.” His cards flutter across the space they are playing, landing any so way and ruining the rest of the game.

Mark’s okay with JB ruining the game since he’s not even sure what they’re even playing anymore with being a combination of half asleep and half drunk. He has reached the point where he can honestly say he doesn’t care. Jinyoung, or penis face, is still snoring away on the couch with out a care in the world either.

Mark’s a modern day Picasso.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Jackson says. He’s standing in front of Mark, making him realize he must have spaced out for a minute because he can hear JB grumbling in the hallway and Jackson was sitting last thing he knew.

Jackson offers his hand and Mark takes it, giving him a boost off the floor. Turning back, Mark points at Jinyoung, “What about –”

“Leave him,” Jackson says, hand warm and firm on Mark’s wrist, “he’ll sleep it off. Come on I’m tired and I want to sleep with you.”

Mark stumbles, breath catching in his throat, the words _I want to sleep with you_ ringing in his ears. The grip on his wrist keeps him from falling, but it can’t stop the feeling that his stomach’s plummeting down to the lobby and crashing on the floor. His thoughts are flying at the speed of light in every so direction. What does Jackson mean, does he mean what Mark thinks he means, or is he joking? Is he okay with Jackson meaning that, or should he run away right now before something happens?

Now is a good time for an answer to what would Jesus be doing in this situation.

Fumbling in the dark, Mark follows Jackson out of the living room and down the hallway.

A light shines from underneath Jackson’s closed door, tracing around the cracks between the door and the doorframe. Illuminating the dark hallway as if it’s part of the stairway to heaven and the sweet music of angels strumming on harps will bless their ears when the door is opened (or the waft of Jackson’s dirty laundry).

Is this the sign he’s been praying for?

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Hey Mark,” Jackson’s voice is soft as he turns off his bedroom light. “You want to borrow a shirt?”

Hands wet from trying to wash up in the bathroom, Mark touches the shirt he has on, a stiff polo his mom bought him – not Jackson approved. “What, can’t sleep on your bed in this?”

“No.” Jackson, sitting on the side of his bed, removes his shirt and tosses it into a ball to the other side of the room. He’s shirtless now and Mark fails at not staring. Jackson’s shoulders are broader than his and all that fencing has really paid off.

Mark is not jealous he has a toothpick for a body, not one bit. He has a waistline to be envious of, which actually might not be a compliment.

“It’d just be more comfortable. You don’t have to,” says Jackson.

“No, sure. Give me one,” Mark replies, struggling with taking his shirt off.

Jackson has a shirt in one hand and Mark suspects it came from the floor, but it’s soft when Mark slips it over his head. Briefly, Mark’s head catches in the fabric searching from the neck hole; the scent of Jackson’s cologne clinging to the fabric fills his nose. The smell electrifies his nerves from the hair on his head to the littlest of his toes.

Wearing Jackson’s shirt is wild and Mark feels like he’s wearing a different skin even though it’s only a different blend of cotton. He’s not the person he’s supposed to be when he’s with Jackson. He can be naughty, devious, and a touch of wrong with a side of crooked halo.

The worst thing of it all is that Mark likes it this way.

“Hey,” Mark says, sitting next to Jackson on the side of the bed.

Jackson turns his head and suddenly his face is so close, or rather he’s so very close to Mark, their knees brushing together. “Hey.”

Blinking long and slow, Mark stares at Jackson’s face in the dark, making out his features in the dark shadows concealing them in the black of the night. He can feel his heart beating in his throat and the touch of Jackson’s knee against his is sending intense tingles up and down his spine.

“Did this come from the floor?” Mark asks, mouth dry.

“What if I say yes?” Jackson says, an arm reaching around Mark’s back to hold him by his waist.

“I’ll smell like you then.” Mark bites his lip for saying such a stupid thing.

“Is that a bad thing?” Jackson’s voice is in his ear and Mark believes he’s a million times drunker at this exact moment than he was entering Jackson’s room.

Mark tilts his head, Jackson’s nose bumping into his ear. “No,” he says hoarsely, forgetting how to speak. “Not bad.”

He closes his eyes, drifting within the unspoken electricity connecting him and Jackson in the moment.

Jackson’s hands rest on either side of Mark’s waist, fingers hot to the touch under Mark’s shirt. He doesn’t speak, but his lips touch Mark’s in the softest of motions, and Mark can feel the short puff of Jackson’s breath on his skin. Mark tries to remember to breathe through his nose as he presses closer to Jackson and his kisses. The taste of Jackson on his tongue is nothing short of intoxicating with the hint of alcohol sticking to his tongue.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

All of Mark’s concerns seem to float away even the nagging anxiety that he shouldn’t be doing this with Jackson is locked away. Fingertips dig into his side when Jackson presses too hard, grounding Mark to reality.

Jackson pulls away, loosening his grip. “Shit, sorry,” he says, concern reading across his face, and his hands slide down Mark’s back. “I’ll just.” He turns his head and says something in Cantonese Mark doesn’t understand. “I thought maybe we had something, but I was wrong. I am so sorry.”

Mark stares at Jackson’s mouth that was on his mere seconds earlier wondering what it would take to continue as they were before. He rests a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, hesitant yet demanding, and gives Jackson a shake. “Jackson,” – Mark shushes Jackson with a finger to his lips – “just shut up and do it again.”

“Oh.” Jackson’s lips move around Mark’s finger, and a hand snakes up to rest behind Mark’s neck. “I can do that.”

When their lips touch again, Mark tastes the devil with each swipe of tongue and brush of wet lips between them.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

A loud honking noise startles Mark into wakening, eyes crusted almost shut, dried drool breaking apart as he opens his mouth. His stomach turns in a state of queasy unease, tossing back and forth.

_What time is it?_

He rubs his eyes and stretches out his cramped limbs, arms and legs flexing outwards until they come in contact with something else in the bed.

Eyes wide open, Mark lies frozen in his spot watching the slow rise and fall of the naked back in front of him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait for it


	8. Book 4:2

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

If the feeling in his chest from holding Mark and kissing him in the dark is religious enlightenment, Jackson vows to convert to whatever will let him keep this feeling close. Sliding his hands over Mark’s skin, warm and smooth, ignites the slow burn he’s been nurturing for months. He’ll prostate himself at the temple of Mark and preach the good news if he could keep this moment to himself.

A dim light cast from the street below creeps in under the window, casting Jackson’s room in pale shades of grey. The room is quiet save for the sounds of their breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioner kicking in from the outside hallway. Every small movement, rustle of clothes, bending and groaning of mattress, is magnified in Jackson’s mind. It’s like the acute awareness he has during his most serious of fencing matches.

Mark’s hands drag over the skin on Jackson’s bare back, clumsily groping around in the dark. Lips sliding together warm and wet, matching together without the need for sight. They’re so close, Jackson pulling Mark up against his thigh, shortening the distance between them. His heart pounding in his chest, throbbing so hard he can feel the vibrations up his neck. He’s bursting with happiness from every pore.

Jackson would unlatch his window and shout out to the world that Mark’s his, or do an epic fist pump followed by an hour long jam session in some gay club. He would do these things, but he’d rather inhale in Mark like the rushing wind of the Holy Ghost blowing into him.

He sucks on Mark’s bottom lip, the one he’s seen so thoroughly abused, hands roaming upward so he can hold Mark by the back of his neck. Fingers rubbing against the short hairs at the back of Mark’s head, threading through strands and fanning out against Mark’s scalp. Mark tenses; his body stiffening under Jackson’s touch, lips trembling as Jackson swipes and glides his wet tongue over their saliva slick mouths.

Another part of Jackson resting between his legs feels like it’s dripping, swelling and pushing against his loose shorts. Shit, having Mark wearing his shirt really turns him on and he wants to dress Mark in his clothes then take it all off piece by piece. He’d have him dripping in black layers, metal accessories, and he’d peel each one off to reveal the true Mark. The one who wears pressed button down shirts with cardigans and belted khakis. But for now, he’s content enough to exchange breaths in the dark.

With a puff of air, Mark pulls away, lips parting with a smack. His hands move to rest on Jackson’s shoulders as he breathes shakily. “Jackson?”

Jackson loosens his grip on Mark’s hair, realizing he’s scooped Mark forward so much he’s half sitting in his lap. Don’t fuck this up, Jackson reprimands himself, licking his own swollen lips. “Yeah?”

“What are we doing?” Mark asks, shifting against Jackson’s thigh.

Now is not the time for Mark to get cold feet, Jackson isn’t sure he can stand the impending ridicule of awkward boners. He places a hand on Mark’s inner thigh, moving it upwards at a slow pace.

“Making out,” Jackson replies, mouthing at Mark’s jaw line.

Mark relaxes, drooping in Jackson’s hold. “I think I’m drunk.” He removes his hands from Jackson’s shoulders, placing them in his lap over his crotch. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Hey, me too. What are the chances?” Jackson jokes, “That’s the alcohol talking.” Even though he’s aching for some reciprocal action, he’s not going to take advantage of Mark. He’s not that kind of man. He’ll think of a thousand naked sumo wrestlers twerking if he has to will his erection away. Or a thousand naked sumo wrestlers getting a Brazilian.

“Come on.” Jackson moves his legs, leaning backwards towards the middle of the bed, Mark moving along with him. “Let’s just —” Arms, elbows, and knees clash clumsy ways as they slide back across the sheets. “Get comfortable.” He reaches out for Mark’s shoulders to pull him closer, intent to lock lips for as long as Mark allows him.

Wiggling around, Mark’s hands brush over Jackson’s hip, sending a shiver down Jackson’s spine. Letting out a sleepy grunt, Mark lets Jackson trace the line of his jaw with his fingers.

“I’m going to hell aren’t I?” Mark says, voice breathy and laden with sleepiness. “Jackson you’re taking me to hell.”

Jackson shushes Mark, resting his thumb on swollen lips. “You’re not going anywhere I can’t go with.” He swipes his thumb over Mark’s lips, touching the softness made for him to taste, lick, and worship. “I’m taking you with me.” Fingers lowering to tip Mark’s chin up, Jackson covers Mark’s mouth with his own.

“To hell,” Mark mumbles into Jackson’s mouth in between breaths.

“Yes,” - Jackson curls his arm around Mark’s side - “yes, yes.”

Seconds, minutes, Jackson doesn’t know how long time passes between the two of them. He’s sweating from the fire burning in him, fanned by the warmth of Mark’s body next to him. His dick is hot and heavy between his legs and aching for some attention. Jackson wonders what would happen if he slides his hand down to check if Mark feels the same way he does. Hard, horny, and full of youthful vigor.

When Mark twitches, legs bumping and tangling with Jackson’s, Jackson decides to take the plunge. He lowers his hand around Mark’s side, fingers running over clothes and exposed skin, slow enough for Mark to stop him if need be. Though, Mark doesn’t make a peep, and Jackson brushes his fingertips over the bunched material at the zipper of Mark’s pants.

His suspicions are confirmed when Mark pressed back into his touch; Jackson can feel the outline of Mark’s dick through his pants. He licks his lips, swallowing hard, and rubs his fingers along the outline, savoring the heavy breathing he hears coming through Mark’s nose. Events are developing even better than Jackson could have ever anticipated. Unless of course, he had Mark bent over a pew, or alter, or in one of those confessional boxes in a church like in the movies.  
Jackson may or may not have been having too many religious themed fantasies of late.

“Ever done this before?” Jackson says, keeping his voice low.

Mark’s head rolls deeper into the pillow it’s resting on, and with one eye visible stares at Jackson. “Really? You’re really asking me that?” Jackson watches Mark’s eyelashes as he blinks, pupils now fully dilated and used to the minimal light in his room.

Chuckling, Jackson teases Mark by squeezing his hand around him, “You’re a smart ass when horny.”

“Jackson.” There’s a warning to Mark’s tone.

“What?” Jackson fumbles with Mark’s zipper. “Trust me, I’m good at this.” He drags the zipper down then struggles with undoing the thick metal button.

Mark’s stomach quivers as he exhales. “Oh jeeze.”

One day, Jackson knows Mark’s going to break loose and swear like the repressed church boy he knows is inside him. He hopes he’s there for that day to witness it.

“I know, have mercy on my soul or some shit,” Jackson says, twisting his body so he has access to Mark’s hips with both hands. As awkward the position is, Jackson makes it work to roll Mark’s pants and underwear down enough to gain access to the prize within. What do we have here, Jackson thinks, taking Mark in his hand. Not bad.

Mark makes a short, low garbling noise, the result of biting down on his own fist. “JB,” he stutters, and a waft of alcohol scent fills Jackson’s nostrils, “what about JB?”

“You’re worried about that now?” Jackson curves his hand around Mark’s dick so that it rests firmly in his palm. “I’m jerking you off. This is gay as shit. What happened to going to hell?”

“What if they can hear?” Mark turns over to lie on his back, making Jackson adjust his position to accommodate him. “What if.” He covers his face with his hands.

Jackson strokes his hand up and pauses to rub his thumb around the head, “JB sleeps like the dead when drunk. Jr, well he’s a pervert…don’t worry about it.”

It’s not like Mark isn’t enjoying the hand job, oh god, Jackson hopes he’s enjoying the hand job. He can’t have Mark’s first experience with a guy be complete shit and have him running back into the arms of people who aren’t Jackson Wang. The thought alone provides him the fuel and clarity to kick his small bout of insecurity to the curb.

He’s Jackson Wang; he’s got this.

He leans over and puts all his tricks to work, snapping his wrist with long, smooth strokes. Scooting over, he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side so his other arm has free access to jerking Mark off. His eyes flit back and forth from observing how Mark’s hips buck into his hand and the strained expression showing through the cracks of what is left uncovered on Mark’s face.

“You’re so sexy right now,” says Jackson, “let me see your face.”

Mark’s fingers move away from his eyes, “No.” His eyes peek through, half closed and droopy. “I don’t want you to see.”

Frowning, Jackson stops his hand movements, holding Mark at the base of his dick by the circle made with his fingers. “Do you want me to stop then?”

“No,” Mark says, a bit forceful and loud. He lowers his hands, letting them rest at his side, and turns his head towards Jackson. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do,” Jackson replies, now grinning. He resumes his mission work, tracing the veins on Mark’s dick and spreading the dribbles of pre cum along its length.

“I hate you so much.” Mark gasps, shifting on the bed with his legs trembling the way that cues Jackson that he must be close. Knowing this, Jackson speeds up, focusing on giving Mark as much pleasure as possible. He views the emotions play out in the dark shadows of Mark’s face, the scrunching of his eyebrows, and the strain the corners of his eyes.

Jackson’s balls tighten at the sight of Mark’s face and splayed out body. Shit, shit, shit, this is too god damn sexy he must be dreaming. He wants to touch himself so bad, but he can’t leave Mark on the edge. Mark better come soon or so help him Jackson’s going to fucking lose it embarrassingly in his pants like an eleven year old.

“Oh Jesus.” Jackson sits up, looming over Mark, and uses his other hand to tease Mark’s balls. “The things you fucking do to me.”

Strained, Mark says, “At least I’m pretty right?” Mark’s legs jerk.

“Too fucking pretty.” Jackson bites the inside of his cheek, his cheeks are burning and his joints are sweaty with perspiration. As the words leave his mouth, he feels Mark tighten up against his hands, muscles contracting, and then Mark’s coming in long spurts over Jackson’s shirt. Jackson helps him through, pumping Mark’s dick until he’s sure he’s forced every last drop out of him.

Five seconds later, Jackson shoves his wet hands down his pants and tugs at his dick. Only a few strong strokes later and he reaches orgasm. The wet warmth of fluid hitting his chest and dribbling down his hands to soak into his shorts and underwear.

On the bed, Mark’s dead still - probably in shock - in the same position he was in when he Jackson left him.

Jackson struggles out of his shorts and uses them to wipe up semen from his body and Mark’s like dirty rag. After tossing the shorts somewhere on the floor, Jackson flops down next to Mark.

“That was fucking great.” Jackson inhales and releases a bubble of tension taking up residence in his stomach.

Mark tucks himself back into his pants and turns over on his side. “Jackson…” His eyes are shut.  
Jackson pats Mark on the head, “I know, we’re going to hell right?” His heart rate is winding down and now the impact of the alcohol and the dark is making it hard to stay awake.

“You’re coming with me,” Mark slurs, sleep heavy on his tongue. “Bastard.”

Jackson snorts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anon~  
> 10/11 edited this chapter for some spelling/grammar/etc


	9. Book 4:3

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Mark’s never been one to curse without reason, tending to keep his vocabulary rather clean around his parents and those from the church. But, his brain is chanting holy fucking shit over and over like a skipping CD. He remembers what happened the other night and as much as he’s admiring Jackson’s naked back Mark’s also pondering the repercussions of opening Jackson’s window and parachuting out with the sheet off Jackson’s bed.

To make matters worse he woke up with the usual morning erection. Although, the sinking urge to vomit is taking care of that problem.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself because there’s no real reason to panic it’s only Jackson and they only had some kind of gay sex the other night oh shit there Mark goes again.

The apartment is too quiet besides the street noise of passing cars and pesky birds filtering in through the windows. Mark’s not sure if anyone else in the apartment is awake besides him. Moving with care not too wake Jackson, Mark sits up and squints at the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. It reads a time after eight o’clock in the morning.

Mark decides he knows three things about himself right now. One, he feels sick, which is probably due to the alcohol and he could use a glass of water. Two, he needs to pray. Three, would leaving now be considered the walk of shame?

His stomach turns when he catches the faint scent of cologne from the shirt he’s wearing- Jackson’s shirt. He squirms at the reality of his then shameful adolescent dreams of doing things with boys coming true. Mark’s not sure if he should forget about everything, or embrace it.

He really liked doing that with Jackson.

The something always worrying him and gnawing at his curiosity behind memorized Bible verses is at peace for once.

He really likes Jackson. Mark can’t explain it with anything other than the warmth in his chest and the tingle in his brain when they’re together. It’s curiosity or attraction, Mark can’t quite pin it down in words alone.

_Our Father who art in heaven…_

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“So,” Jackson says. “What do you want to do for breakfast?”

Jackson waking up had interrupted Mark’s inner prayer because everything went to hell the moment he laid eyes on Jackson’s superior torso. Fencing has done Jackson no wrong.

“We just eat cereal around here. I miss my mom’s cooking,” Jackson continues to say, oblivious to Mark’s attempts to not stare at his nipples, chest, abs, skin. “I miss a traditional breakfast.”

Mark doesn’t know what to think, and looks down at the shirt he’s wearing again and notices the dried on stain. Is that what he thinks it is?

“So, you want to go out or have some cereal? You have to go home?”

“Uh…yeah.” Mark fumbles with his words.

“Yeah what?”

Mark waves a hand in the air, other tugging at the shirt. “Yeah. Food and home.”

“So…get something then go back?”

“Sure.”

Jackson gets up from the bed, stretching out his arms and yawning. “Ok. Let me clean up and dress. You got up too early.”

What was Mark supposed to do after waking up then realizing he’d done the dirty deed with Jackson and the sheer mortification alone kept him awake? Maybe if Mark knew what he was doing he’d have woken Jackson up and asked for a repeat performance.

However, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s not sure what they’re doing either.

Did what happened yesterday make the two of them a couple, or friends with benefits who both happen to be guys?

Mark slides over to the side of the bed and removes the shirt he slept in, setting it on the bed next to him. He slept in his pants and boxers, but his shirt’s somewhere in Jackson’s room. Mark scans the floor for it and catches a glimpse of it balled up in a lump by the side Jackson was sleeping on.

Mark gets up and picks up his missing shirt. However, he finds upon unrolling the shirt that the fabric has several stiff stains, and can only guess where those came from. He lets the shirt dangling in one hand, looking at Jackson pulling up a pair of long shorts. “Jackson.”

“Yeah?” Jackson now has one hand on his hip and the other flicking through shirts on hangers.

“There’s you know what on my shirt,” – Mark thrusts the shirt towards Jackson – “why?”

“What?”

“I can’t wear this,” Mark protests. He can’t go back home wearing a shirt with dried jizz on it. No, absolutely not. He can imagine the conversation with his mom right now. Hi Mark, what did you end up doing last night? What’s that on your shirt? Did you have a gay orgy? Shame on you! Pack your bags we’re sending you straight to seminary school tomorrow!

Okay, his mom probably wouldn’t make the leap from semen on his shirt to gay orgy. But the thoughts floating around his mom’s head if she notices what he’s wearing is not something Mark wants to find out about.

Jackson takes a shirt off a hanger before turning to address the problem with Mark’s shirt. “I don’t get-” He steps forward and grabs a hold of the shirt, moving it closer to his eyes. “Oh. So, that’s what I used last night.”

“Jackson this is my shirt. You used my shirt for that?”

Dropping the shirt, Jackson takes a step back. “Hey, it was dark. I thought it was one of my shirts.”

“Give me a shirt. I can’t wear this,” says Mark. He sets the dirty shirt in his lap and crosses his arms.

“Well…” Jackson puts his arms in the shirt he’s holding and pulls in over his head. As he’s straightening the fit, he glances over to his row of shirts and then back to Mark. “No. I think I like you without a shirt on. It’s sexy.”

Mark stands up, “Well sexy here is taking a shirt. Jackson I live with my parents.” He burns hot with embarrassment at the sudden compliment. If Jackson finds his not defined body sexy, Mark can honestly say he hasn’t done much for this body.

Jackson grabs him around the waist and latches onto his back, “Move out and live with me. There’s an empty bedroom. Plus me. I’m here. And no parents. Imagine that.”

As tempting as the idea is, Mark isn’t sure his parents will be keen on him moving into an apartment half way through spring semester. He struggles for a few seconds against Jackson’s arms before giving up.

“We could do whatever we want,” Jackson says, “anytime. Remember I’m your teacher? I have a lot to teach you.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and lets the idea take root in his head, excitement rolling in waves down his body aided by the addition of Jackson’s lips on the side of his neck. Oh God, Jackson’s ten thousand times touchier now in the aftermath. He tilts his neck to the side and exhales out a long breath of air.

“Hey, shouldn’t we clean up?” Mark asks, shakily. “I need to dress.”

Jackson gives him a light squeeze around the middle. “We don’t need to go breakfast right now do we?” The warm air leaving Jackson’s mouth tingles over Mark’s naked skin, lips mumbling over the back of Mark’s neck.

“N-no.”

One thing is for certain, Jackson’s amazing at persuading Mark.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Debauched in ways that would make the devil himself proud, Mark sits in the kitchen drinking coffee out of a mug patterned with different colored butterflies. Mark can only guess the mug is the result of some strange joke gift (unless both Jackson and JB are both secret butterfly lovers).

Coffee coats his teeth and mouth enough to make Mark forget he hasn’t yet brushed his teeth, and won’t for at least another hour.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Jinyoung asks. He’s leaning against the counter with his own mug in hand, giving Mark the blank stare of someone who hasn’t had enough sleep.

The truth is Jinyoung has the faded remains of badly drawn penis on his face.

Jackson plunks down a box of sugary cereal down next to Mark. “Hey penis face, go look in the mirror.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows shoot upwards, “Penis face?”

“Yeah. Mark gave you a present last night.” Jackson opens a drawer and takes out two spoons. “Go look.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jinyoung says, setting his mug down and leaving the room in a hurry.

When Mark hears the yell not too long after coming down the hallway, he knows Jinyoung saw his face in the mirror. Mark’s no artist, but the penis on Jinyoung’s face is by far one of his better works.

“Thanks,” Mark says to Jackson when the bowls and milk arrives at the table. He helps himself to cereal while Jackson finally sits down.

“Is this cereal okay? It’s all we have right now. I can get what you like at the store later. Let me know. Do you need more creamer?”

“Jackson I’m fine. Just eat.” Mark stirs his cereal together. If he lived on his own, this is what he’d be eating instead of his mom’s home cooking. Don’t let his dad cook, that’s just asking for a frozen pizza for breakfast.

Across from him, Jackson is all smiles. “I am, I am.”

Jinyoung comes back into the kitchen and points at his face. “Mark you did this?”

“I was drinking!” Mark replies with cereal in his mouth.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Snorting, Mark curls his legs up on the couch and touches his phone to reply to Jackson’s plea for companionship while he’s at some family relative reunion. There should be a limit to the number of exclamation points one can use in a text message.

A tap comes to Mark’s side. “What’s so funny?”

Mark finishes his message then hits send before glances over to his side where Bam Bam’s taking up the other half of the couch. “Jackson.”

Bam Bam frowns, “Why is he being funny?” The schoolbook balanced in his lap tilts to the side. Even high school kids aren’t immune to spring break homework.

“Just because.”

Two feet dig themselves under Mark’s butt. “Tell me. I know Jackson too.”

“Why are you being such a brat?” Mark’s phone buzzes with a new response.

“I’m bored. Entertain me host brother,” says Bam Bam, poking Mark in the butt with the tips of his toes. “I don’t want to do homework.”

After one sharp poke, Mark gives in and tells Bam Bam what he wants. “Jackson’s at a family thing and he’s going crazy. He’s sending me texts about what’s happening. I guess an uncle is getting drunk. Or is drunk. There, happy?” Teenagers are so touchy. All those hormones must make them that way. Mark’s glad to be past that dark time in his life.

“Tell him hello from me.”

Mark lifts his butt and uses his free hand to dislodge Bam Bam’s feet from under him. “I will if you stop it.”

He tries to convey a threatening stare at Bam Bam then goes back to his phone to see the message. Jackson’s uncle is now both drunk and telling old family stories. _Kind of wish I could see that_ , Mark texts back. _Oh Bam Bam says hi._

Mark sets his phone down on the couch and sets his attention back to the television, but watching the sitcom playing isn’t very interesting when he’s missed half the show. Talking to Jackson is a good distraction to the end of spring break, and it’s Jackson. Mark’s a coiled spring, ready to leave the house and go shoot out at a moment’s notice.

“We need to hang out again. Like at the beach. You’re always with Jackson,” Bam Bam complains. A sharp slap signals the closing of Bam Bam’s textbook. “Maybe just us?”

Reaching over, Mark gives Bam Bam a gentle push on the head. “You’re a baby.”

“You’re my host brother. Show me the sights.” Bam Bam drops his book on the floor and scoots closer. “Too much Jackson.” Bam Bam’s voice lowers, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Mark freezes. His stomach takes a direct plunge into the floor, blood running cold. “No,” he says with more force than necessary. “He’s not my boyfriend.” His heart beats fast and palms run cold. “Jackson’s my friend. _Friend._ ”

“Okay friend. Just friend,” Bam Bam answers. “Then can I be your boyfriend so we can hang out?”

The ice in Mark’s veins begins to break. “Bam Bam, you’re like ten. No.” He chuckles to let loose his nerves and it helps.

Bam Bam doesn’t let up. “What do I need to do? M-a-r-k.” He pouts his lower lip.

“Okay, next time I’m free we’ll do something.” Mark will need at least a week to come up with something he can do with Bam Bam without disturbing the public. Then he remembers something Jackson told him not too long ago. “Hey, Jackson has this friend he said you should meet. He’s in high school too and you need to hang out with people your age.”

“But why?”

“Hey it’s Jackson. I don’t know.” Mark shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s meet him once.”

Bam Bam leans back into the couch cushions, “Fine, but it better be fun.”

“He’s Jackson’s friend…” Mark’s phone buzzes again, and he almost knocks his phone off the couch when fumbling to pick it up.

Bam Bam kicks his legs out next to Mark, “Jackson Jackson Jackson!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/11: some editing done on chap 8. will do full editing on every chapter when this is complete.


	10. Book 5:1

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” JB removes his backpack, sets it down on the floor, and takes a seat in the chair next to Jackson. “What’d you do?”

The university commons is filled with students this morning and Jackson had just managed to save two spots in lounge meant for socializing or relaxing before the noon rush comes for lunch. Jackson shrugs, his leg jiggling up and down. He hasn’t spilled the details of his advancement with Mark to JB, but his big mouth can’t keep it a secret for much longer.

“Mark,” Jackson says with smug satisfaction because it both answers the question and has an underlying meaning. Leaning in, he raises his eyebrows and grins. “Still want to know?”

JB collapses back into the chair. “Ugh. Is that why you haven’t done laundry in a week? That’s gross.”

“What? You haven’t either,” Jackson points out. “It’s your turn to clean the bathroom too.” In all actuality, Jackson hasn’t done his laundry because he’s been lazy, not because he’s keeping Mark’s shirt as a trophy. If he washes Mark’s shirt, he’ll have to give it back.

“I’ll clean it soon. So,” JB says, sitting upright, “are you and Mark going out now? Or what?”

Jackson rubs his chin, “Yeah…I think.”

He doesn’t point out that he and Mark haven’t defined what they are in clear terms. In fact, Jackson hasn’t had the chance to see Mark since classes started up again. He even broke down and called Mark the other day, which is odd for him since he communicates almost only by text except with his parents.

“You think? Does this have to do with…you know?” JB says. “I like Mark, he’s a fun guy, but he’s got that thing.”

“Thing?” Jackson has to take a moment to read between the lines, “Oh. No. I mean, I don’t think so. Don’t give me a heart attack.”

“I had to ask. Anyway, it’s cool. But if you and Mark are going to,” – JB lowers his voice – “screw around tell me. I’ll sleep at Jinyoung’s. I don’t need to hear you two fuck.”

“Sorry bro, already screwed around.” Jackson grins. “I’ll tell you next time.”

JB slaps his hand down on the arm of the chair, “Damn it Jackson.” He shakes his fist at Jackson. “I hope you two have boring vanilla missionary sex for the rest of your lives.”

_Missionary sex_ , Mark’s all about all of that religious shit. Jackson’s brain short circuits at the possibilities. He could buy a sexy nun costume, or better yet a sexy priest costume and have Mark lecture him on his heathen ways. Oh how Jackson would like to take Mark’s preaching in bed.

He lets out a deep creepy guffaw from the bottom of his lungs.

“Jesus fucking Christ Jackson don’t pop a boner in the commons.”

“Hey, you just gave me the idea of Mark in a sexy nun costume. I’m a hot blooded man,” Jackson retaliates, clearing his throat. He needs to stay away from this train of thought he has one more class to get through today. “Is it Halloween yet?”

JB groans, “I did not need to hear that.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Mark bows his head to the point that his forehead comes in contact with this folded hands resting at the top of the pew. He’s bent over, deep in prayer, with the weight of his inner conversation with the powers that be bringing him down. The quietness of the church is peaceful on a late afternoon when regular church services aren’t in session. There are perks to being the pastor’s son after all.

He locks his fingers tighter and breathes out a long breath of air. His prayers have removed some of the pressure weighing him down about his life, Jackson, his own stresses, Jackson, his parents, his relationship with Jackson, school, and Jackson. For one thing, Mark knows he’s not the only person to battle with these problems and he finds strength in the words of others.

Mark straightens his back and sits up, pushing his hands away from the top of the pew and slides all the way back into his seat. Light shines down through the colorful stained glass panels at the sides of the church, bathing the front of the church in white. Mark’s eyes wander across the open room until he gazes straight ahead upon the large cross hanging on the wall.

In that instance, Mark feels a wash of peace flow through him as if his prayers had been received.

Tradition may be one thing, but following in the path doesn’t mean Mark can’t take his own steps along the way.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Bye mom!” Mark yells as he leaves out the front door, backpack hanging on his shoulder by one strap and car keys in hand. He has two classes back to back, then an hour break, and then a third class before his day is over. The first week back to classes has been busy.

He’s been bombarded with new learning material and the looming doom of three final papers to research and write piling up. Mark tends to procrastinate, but for the sake of keeping his weekends somewhat open he’s been doing more work on campus during the week. Also, it helps distract him from how he hasn’t seen Jackson for over a week. He feels like some lovesick teenager mooning over his first crush.

The last time Mark saw Jackson was in between his class theology class and his philosophy class where they happen to both have class in the same building.

Mark shuts his car door and clicks his seatbelt on before putting the keys in the ignition. Thinking about the last time he saw Jackson summons butterflies to his stomach. He doesn’t need to zone out on the road on the way to campus remembering how Jackson pulled his shirt out of his pants and made it seem so casual.

For the rest of the drive, Mark turns the radio on and forces himself to think about his upcoming test in two weeks. If there’s anything that turns him off fast, it’s thinking about school.

By some saving grace, Mark manages to get the last parking spot in the lowest level in the student parking ramp when he gets on campus. Jittery, Mark slams his car door too hard, knowing that if his dad was around he’d be yelling at him for not taking better care of his vehicle. Mark has so much energy for a regular Thursday mid-morning that he doesn’t quite believe himself to be so awake.

For some reason Mark believes today is going to be a good day. The sun is shining with only a few clouds in the sky with a slight breeze to take away some of the heat. He takes his time with the shabby stairwell, breathing in some of the second hand smoke from the last person to walk through. Even the harsh smell of cigarettes isn’t a deterrent from his good mood.

He doesn’t realize until he gets to his first class that he forgot to charge his phone the night before and now he only has 30% battery left – for the whole day. Now he’s going to actually have to pay attention in lecture.

Nope, today is going to be a good day.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Hey.”

Mark’s head snaps up, one of his earbuds loosening and falling out of his ear, at the interruption. He hadn’t expected anyone to take notice of him sitting outside on a bench behind the library with a half eaten sandwich and a bag of pretzel sticks in his lap. Most people walk on by and ignore everyone and everything.

“I saw you from by the comm building, why haven’t you responded today?” Jackson has his hands tucked away under his backpack straps and a pouty expression on his face. “Do you not want to meet up?”

Mark pauses, staring at Jackson’s face; he has his hair down today without a cap or beanie in sight. It only takes Mark a few seconds to realize he has no idea what Jackson is talking about. “Huh?” He removes the earbuds from his ear and stops his music player.

“If you can’t that’s cool too, but I kind of want to hang out with just the two of us. If you’re not comfortable with that we can stay in sometime. Chill at my apartment. You know, like the usual. But the weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow and all.” Jackson babbles on and on with a quick tongue.

“Like a date?” says Mark, and the butterflies return to his stomach. “My phone battery’s low I haven’t checked it.”

Jackson pulls at his backpack straps, “Yeah. But not like our last date. No JB and Jinyoung pulling shit on us.” He takes a seat next to Mark, shrugging his backpack off and pushing it to the side. “Punk ass bitches am I right? Nah, I’m just kidding. They’re my punk ass bitches.”

There’s an old saying that over time couples start to morph into each other or something because they see each other all the time. Mark is glad he has yet to turn into Jackson.

“Sure,” Mark says, “when tomorrow?” He licks his lips thinking about the possibility of doing _things_ with Jackson. The hormonal battle rages strong within him and he’s almost embarrassed for himself. This must be the result of too many Sunday school classes.

“I have fencing practice until six…maybe I’ll get out earlier. Meet me at the gym like before? If that will work for you. I got an extra bike helmet.” Jackson scoots in closer towards Mark on the bench, their knees almost touching.

Mark’s heart warms at Jackson getting a second helmet for him. “Great.” Mark smiles and his hands fumble with the bag on his lap. “Want some pretzels?”

“Can I get a kiss with that?” Jackson holds out his hands.

Mark nearly knocks the sandwich out of his lap when he moves his legs away from Jackson. “We’re in public, in school!” His heart beats faster in his chest and he dumps pretzels in Jackson’s palms.

“I can dream. Then what about later?”

Mark gives Jackson a shove away from him. How can Jackson think he’ll just give him a kiss in the middle of campus where anyone can see them? Then again, this isn’t the first time Jackson’s pulled this stunt before. Jackson’s so stubborn yet determined and sometimes Mark just wants to sit on him until he shuts up.

However, Jackson’s too cute today with his hair down and a shirt on that isn’t black that a tiny part of Mark wishes he could give Jackson one simple kiss. His palms are sweaty and he can’t do it. He wants to touch Jackson’s hand, but he can’t do that either.

He’s useless at these types of things.

“Maybe. I have to go to class,” Mark says, picking up his sandwich and taking a big bite. He dusts crumbs off his jeans and moves to stand. “Text me later about tomorrow?”

Jackson catches his hand as Mark’s standing up, fingers curling around Mark’s wrist.

“I’m just kidding Mark. Seriously. Don’t listen to all the crazy shit that comes out of my mouth.”

Sitting back down, Mark scrapes his fingers across the bench. “I learned that right after I met you.” Jackson’s thumb rubs over the sensitive skin at his wrist.

“You have a good memory we met when we were what? Five? Six?” says Jackson with a sly grin on his face, lips quirking up to one side. “I can’t even really remember you back then. I could ask my mom.”

“That doesn’t count,” says Mark, “you know what I mean.” He tilts his head to the side, trying to make his hair fall out of his eyes. One of these days he should get a haircut, but if he goes he’ll probably end up with a shaved head.

Jackson lets go and pats Mark’s knee, “I’ll text you later okay?” His eyes are so warm and dark that Mark finds himself falling into Jackson’s trap. He’s pretty sure he was annoyed with Jackson a few minutes earlier.

But, Jackson’s like a puppy. You can’t kick him for being bad because even we he’s being a douche he makes up for it somehow later. Mark’s going to have to repent for whatever he does in the future due to this.

Mark crumples the bag in his hand, “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

His hair’s damp from the gym showers and pulled back in a cap in a way that’ll give him a bad case of hat head, but Jackson could care less about style when he’s going to see Mark. Even though Jackson’s tired from practice late on a Friday night, he can feel his second wind kicking in. He checks his phone for the millionth time to see if he’s got a text. However, his phone shows no new messages.

He shrugs the bag on his shoulder with the two helmets into a more comfortable position. For tonight, he’s left his gym supplies in his permanent locker instead of bringing them home. With two people on his motorcycle, he won’t have room to carry around extra stuff. Nor does he want to bring his gym clothes to where he’s taking Mark.

“Hot date Jackson?” A hand claps Jackson on his shoulder; it’s his teammate who had been lagging behind in the locker room.

Jackson slips his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. How’d you know?” he jokes, “I’m waiting for my hot date right now. You have plans tonight?”

“No not really, a beer and a night in. Got to save some money for the fencing bar crawl coming up. Hope your date goes well, I’ll see you Sunday. Maybe you’ll get luck-y.”

“Hell yeah!” Jackson gives his teammate a fist bump. “Thanks man I will.” Jackson follows his teammate until they come to the entry of the sports complex, giving him a short wave as they part ways.

_Where is Mark?_ Jackson shoves his hands in his pants pockets. He better not be late for their first date, their first _official_ date. Nervous, Jackson checks his phone again; he hates being alone and waiting for someone. Loitering in the quiet and empty lobby of the sports complex is creepy.

As he’s flipping through his messages on his phone, the front doors open and Mark pokes his head inside. A burst of happiness rushes through Jackson, and he slips his phone away to race over to a rather meek appearing Mark. He swipes his ID card so fast the computer system beeps in error, making him have to swipe a second time to leave.

“Mark, I was worried you forgot on me,” Jackson says, crowding Mark’s personal space. He places an arm on Mark’s back. “I was ready to call you.”

“Sorry,” says Mark. He fidgets under Jackson’s hand. “I wasn’t sure what to wear on a date with you. Your high standards are above my wardrobe.”

The thought of Mark trying to put an outfit together for their date makes Jackson smile and remember when he took Mark shopping for new clothes. He must have rubbed off on Mark that day since Mark’s wearing dark jeans, a white tank top, and a half buttoned plaid shirt, which is unfortunately tucked into his pants.

“You look great. Let me fix one thing.” Jackson takes a step back to put both hands at Mark’s sides and pull the plaid shirt out of Mark’s pants. “Now it’s perfect. But you know, I like you shirtless the best.”

“You still have my shirt at your place,” Mark says, pushing Jackson away. Jackson’s not certain, but he thinks Mark’s cheeks are tinged red. “When are you going to give that back?”

“Uh…never?”

Mark crosses his arms, “You’re not using it to do things are you?”

“When would I ever?”

“You know what? Keep it I don’t think I want it back.”

Jackson takes a step forward as Mark takes a step backwards. “I’ll give you one of mine. Then we can call it even.”

“I don’t want one of your shirts,” Mark says while following Jackson’s lead out of the sports complex.

“Really?” Jackson squints, the sun is too bright for this time of day. It must be the angle of the sun, or something physics related that Jackson could care less about. “You looked cozy in my shirt that night.”

They descend down the front steps, Mark skipping a few steps ahead.

“That’s because you lent it to me,” Mark replies.

“You asked for one. Come on, you liked wearing my shirt. Not gonna lie, you wearing my clothes is pretty fucking hot.” Jackson tugs at his own ‘852’ customized shirt. “I’m giving you some of my stuff now.”

“Jackson I can’t wear some of your stuff,” Mark says, waiting for Jackson at the bottom of the steps.

“Why not? You’d look fly as hell.” Jackson doesn’t want to admit that if Mark wears his clothes he’ll both be incredibly turned on and then everyone will know to stay away from Mark.

Mark’s his pretty boy after all.

“Jackson, I don’t want to look like one of those hip hop guys. No offense. I’ll stick with my style.”

Jackson shakes his head, gesturing for Mark to follow him to where his motorcycle is parked in the school lot. “You just say that because you haven’t really tried it. Can’t I at least get you in some tight pants? Or no pants?”

“Jackson?”

“What?”

“No.”

 

 

 

**~BONUS SCENE~**

 

“So, you’re Jackson’s friend?” Bam Bam licks his ice cream cone.

“Kind of, we’re both in a fencing club. I’ve known him for about two years now.”

“Is he always like that?” Bam Bam asks. “Loud and annoying?”

Yugyeom switches the hand his ice cream cone is in, “Yeah. That’s Jackson.” Jackson’s friend’s foreign exchange student hit Jackson on the nail with that acute two-word characterization.

“Oh. It’s too bad.”

Licking up the drips from the bottom of the cone, Yugyeom accidentally dips his nose in ice cream. “Darn.” He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “What’s bad?”

“He’s in my way. I can’t get at Mark.”

_Are all people from Thailand this weird,_ Yugyeom thinks. He lowers his ice cream cone and wonders if there is something not quite right about Bam Bam. Well, his name is Bam Bam.

“Why do you say that?” Yugyeom says, afraid of the type of answer he’s going to receive.

“Nothing. You’ve got something here.” Bam Bam licks his thumb and the next thing Yugyeom knows Bam Bam’s rubbing at his nose. “There, all gone. I fixed it.” He sticks his thumb in his mouth. “Mm chocolate.”

Yugyeom can’t stop the horrified downturn of his lips from forming on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooon.


	11. Book 5:2

 

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

**JACKSON**

 

Palms sweaty, Jackson can’t shake his nerves from forming as the waiter leaves with their order scrawled on a notepad. He could use a beer or two to give him some liquid confidence. Across the table Mark’s toying with the cloth napkin in his lap, folding it and laying it back down several times.

Jackson takes a sip of his water to clear his throat. He’s been to this same restaurant with friends at least five times this year so far – it’s one of their favorite haunts. The wall decorations are the always the same, aquarium filled with colorful fish at the register, and dark modern furniture all in place. A splash of light above their heads brightens the booth they’re crammed into together enough for them to make out the menu and each other’s faces.

The real reason Jackson’s been to this particular restaurant many times is that it serves Korean cuisine and plays kpop music over the speakers. His Korean friends enjoy eating here when they want a reasonably priced meal from their motherland. The food’s great as long as the chef’s know to take it easy on the red pepper paste.

He should have just taken Mark out for a burger.

“So, you’re into soup?” Jackson says, wanting to strike up a conversation to cut the awkward air between them.

Mark stops fiddling with his napkin and glances up, “Yeah I love it.”

“That’s good…how’s your classes been?”

“Okay.” Mark leans back so that his back touches the wooden back of the booth behind him. “I think I’ll be busy with papers.”

Jackson nods his head, “Me too. I’ve got two. I think.”

He’s not sure if the dining situation is making their date awkward, or if it’s the fact that they’re on a date. Out of all the times in the past Jackson’s been alone with Mark this is the first time he’s felt the need to impress him. Before he was dropping hints and making sly moves, his version of seduction, and now he’s got what he wants and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

He’s never taking JB’s advice again.

“How’s fencing going?” Mark asks. “Don’t you have that event coming up?”

Perking up, Jackson drums his fingers on the table. “Yes, it’s soon. It’s going good. Practice’s been tougher I added more strength training to my routine. You should feel my thighs in a couple weeks. I’ll be able to crush rocks soon.”

“Give me the date and time. I’ve never been to a fencing competition.”

Jackson grins, “Will you come cheer me on?”

“If I’m there I’ll cheer or whatever.” Mark waves his arms in the air with what Jackson can only guess is imaginary pom-poms. “Go Jackson. J-a-k-s-o-n.”

“Mark, it’s J-a-c-k-s-o-n.”

Mark drops his hands back to his lap and his eyes move down with them, “It’s close enough. You want me to cheer for you or not?” A flustered Mark is a cute Mark.

“I’ll make you a sign then you can read off it when you cheer for me,” Jackson teases, “or just yell and look pretty and be my good luck charm.”

Mark stares off to the side, “Is the food ever going to get here?”

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes.” Jackson rests his elbows on the table, “Just relax.”

“I am, but you’re being difficult.”

“Oh Mark, I’ll stop. But you’re so cute.” Jackson’s heart warms when he sees Mark’s lips twitch upwards into a small smile.

“I, I’m not cute,” Mark denies. “You’re the cute one.”

“Me?” Jackson feels his cheeks warming, “Of course I’m cute.” His knees bump together under the table. “I’m always cute. And sexy.” He winks, trying to maintain his composure and not make a fool of himself. “That’s me, Wang Jackson. Jackson Wang. Fencing star, wonder boy, Mr. wild and sexy.”

His last title earns him a chuckle from Mark.

“And there’s more, but anyway, we’re having mock matches in a week to prepare us for the competition. You should come.”

“In a week?” Mark pauses. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh.” Jackson squashes the disappointment rising up inside him, but it lingers more than he knows it should.

Mark sighs, “It’s just, I’m supposed to be helping out at our church picnic. With my parents it’s just not easy. It’s sort of…hard.”

“It’s ok,” Jackson says. “It’s just a practice match. But you better make it to my competition or I’ll be sad. Pray for me will ya?” He wants to reach over and stroke the back of Mark’s hand to show understanding. Being together will not be easy for Mark especially with how he has one foot in religion and the other beginning to step outside the bounds.

“…Maybe.” Mark leans back and the dim lighting in the restaurant casting shadows on his face. The mystery of what lies under the shadows hiding the flashes of Mark’s skin intrigues Jackson and he’d very much like to investigate the dips of Mark’s collarbones.

Jackson moves for his water glass, “If I see you, I’ll definitely win.” He means what he says. Seeing Mark at the meet will give him that extra special strength to push forward.

“I’m not even in it and I feel like I am,” says Mark. “I’ll come.”

Happiness wells up inside Jackson that bursts through with a giant grin. “I can’t wait to show you fencing. It’s a super cool sport. Think like back in the days with knights and armor.” Jackson speaks with his hands, gesturing the sharp jabs made. “Like this, and this.”

The waiter interrupts Jackson’s short-lived demonstration with their meal balanced on a tray. Mark doesn’t wait a moment’s notice to take his chopsticks in hand and dig into his food. Picking up his own chopsticks, Jackson relaxes. At first, he was nervous about how this date would end up going. The awkwardness he felt when they arrived at the restaurant has melted away to familiar moods and attitudes.

Maybe they should go out to eat at places that don’t serve Thai takeout and pizza. Jackson bets there’s a whole avenue of fine dining they have yet to discover, and it’s not like Jackson doesn’t have the money to treat Mark nice.

Mark looks up; he has sauce on his bottom lip. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I’m thinking we should do this more often.” Jackson adjusts his grip on his chopsticks and searches for a nice piece of meat.

“Don’t we already?” Mark asks, tongue peeking out of his mouth to lick away the sauce.

“We don’t go on dates to nice places. I want to take you to nice places,” Jackson says, then stuffs his mouth with food.

Mark mumbles, cheeks full of food, “I don’t care. I like doing whatever with you.” He pauses to swallow while Jackson watches. “It’s fun.”

Who would have known that Mark’s so smooth?

“God Mark, stop being so perfect I can’t compete. No wait, don’t stop. I love it.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Having the check paid by Jackson makes Mark confused. Although, he’s used to Jackson buying him food and there was that one time he bought him new clothes. They weren’t together then and now they are, so when the waiter asked if they were separate checks Mark didn’t know what to say.

Next time he’s going to be the one to pay – it’s not like he’s summer church youth group councilor for nothing. He’s got some fun money stashed away for when his parents don’t slip him a twenty for good grades (well as good as he can get).

“I am so full,” Jackson says. Both of them ate their meals with nothing left over. “I don’t want to think about food.”

They head out around the side of the restaurant to the parking lot where Jackson’s motorcycle is parked. The sun is setting, washing the sky in a glow of soft oranges, reds, and pinks.

Mark stretches his arms out behind him, “What about dessert?”

“You are cruel.” Jackson kicks a stray rock in front of Mark’s path. “I could _maybe_ eat dessert.”

Laughing, Mark unbuttons a few more buttons from his shirt because the outdoor heat’s getting to him. Now that dinner is over, Mark’s not sure if Jackson had anything else in mind for their date. It’s almost eight, and Mark can’t come up with any ideas for the two of them to do. Mark would enjoy sitting on the beach with Jackson, watching the ocean waves glide to the shoreline until the sun reaches the horizon. A beach sunset is beautiful to experience and is the most romantic thing Mark can think to do together.

He loves the smell of salty sea air, the feel of warm sand between his toes, and cool waves crashing against his ankles.

However, the beaches are too long of a drive to reach for tonight.

Jackson hands Mark a helmet, “Your parents expecting you home at sometime?”

“No, not until late,” – Mark slides the helmet onto his head – “I told them I was meeting you.”

“Oh, that’s how it is,” says Jackson, adjusting his own helmet. “Your parents must like me.” He swings his leg over his motorcycle and fusses with the mechanics that Mark doesn’t understand.

“My parents like your parents,” Mark says, awkwardly getting his leg over and positioning himself behind Jackson. “So they like you by association.”

Jackson starts the engine and has to speak louder over the noise, “I haven’t seen your parents in a while. How they doin’?”

“Okay.” Besides being busy with work nothing drastic has happened in Mark’s family life. Except maybe when the ramen over boiled all over the stove and it took two people to clean up the mess.

“That’s good. Hey, you ready to go?” Jackson asks, revving the engine.

Gripping Jackson’s side with both hands, Mark readies himself for Jackson to tear out of the parking lot. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, shirt flapping in the rushing wind, Mark enjoys the cool breeze and the warmth radiating from Jackson’s back. Here he can forget all his worries and watch the lights blur past. He doesn’t know where he’s heading, but he doesn’t care.

The season is just right.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“I think we can see it from here.”

Mark drops his helmet in Jackson’s bag, “See what?”

“The sunset,” says Jackson, fixing his hat back on his head and leaving the bag with the helmets sitting on the motorcycle. “I just thought it’d be nice to see. For a date, ya’know?”

The park Jackson drove them too is vacant, devoid of playing children and watchful parents. Empty swing-set seats hang still without breeze or a person to push them.

“Oh. Yeah, that’d be nice. To see.” Mark smiles to himself. Jackson appears rather tough and rough on the outside, but he’s full of surprises on the inside. The hidden romantic side of Jackson is cute.

“Okay good. I was hoping you wouldn’t think it’s lame. Um, lets.” Jackson’s hand touches Mark’s, fingers cold. “Go to a bench.”

Mark’s happy no one is in the park to see them holding hands, and he’s also glad Jackson isn’t looking at his face. “Y-yeah.” He laces their fingers together, warming Jackson’s cold fingers with his own through a gentle squeeze.

Walking side by side, hand in hand, calls together a different emotion than Mark remembers from Jackson draping himself over him time and time again. A cozy sweetness, the kind he gets when he’s most comfortable, blankets him.

“Here is good.” Jackson points with his other hand at the closest bench, one next to a giant palm.

As they sit, Jackson releases Mark’s hand to grab the back of the bench, and Mark uses the opportunity to rub his sweaty palm on his thigh. _Here I am_ , Mark thinks, _on a date with Jackson, no big deal we do this all the time._

Being at a place other than school or Jackson’s apartment makes the fact that they’re some kind of couple hit home. He’s got to break the air and ask the question.

“Are we going out?”

Jackson raises an eyebrow, “We’re out on a date?”

“No.” Mark shakes his head, “Like dating?” He mashes his lips together and swallows to clear his throat.

“Yeah,” Jackson says, hand hovering over Mark’s thigh before he sets it down with a gentle touch. “If you’re okay with that. I want to go out with you.”

“Okay.” Mark nods his head.

“Okay?” Jackson asks, “ _Okay_ is all you have to say?”

Mark shrugs, “Okay good?”

Next to him Jackson snorts and pats his thigh. “That’s just so you Mark.”

Curious, Mark bumps shoulders with Jackson. “What’d you think I was going to say?”

“I don’t know, no thanks Jackson I think I like girls instead. Jackson you’re crazy. Jackson it’s not going to work out between the two of us, I’m going to go become a monk–”

A cool sinking feeling falls down Mark’s stomach. Going into the ministry has always been a life goal of his since he was a little boy attached to his dad’s leg or something similar to that as his parents tell him. He’s always planned on going to seminary school and doing work with the church, but the past year has been rough and he’s floundering.

His parents want him to go on with school, but Mark’s beginning to think he might need to rethink that option.

“Jackson, I’m in love with somebody else. I have a kid. My real name isn’t Mark Tuan–”

“Jackson,” Mark says, placing his hand on top of Jackson’s on his thigh.

“What?”

Mark gives Jackson’s hand a soft pat, “Stop talking and watch the sunset.”

“Ah, okay.” Jackson shifts his body next to him and turns his hand, linking their fingers together. He doesn’t utter another peep and Mark wonders if he came off too demanding.

For what seems like a miracle, Jackson is silent as the sun dips further down and out of sight behind houses and trees. The silence is calming as well as the small strokes of Jackson’s fingers over Mark’s skin. Yet, the quiet won’t last forever, not with Jackson, who is probably holding himself back from speaking.

“Thanks,” Mark says after debating what to say internally. “For taking me out. And for paying for dinner.”

Jackson doesn’t respond for a few fast beats of Mark’s heart. “Of course,” he says, “I asked you out. I’ll take good care of you. I’m number one boyfriend material.” He hits his chest with his fist as if to prove the point.

“Will you go help out at my church picnic with me?”

“Hell no,” Jackson says, quickly turning down the request. “Anything but that. I’ll be your slave just don’t make me do the church stuff.”

“Slave?” A smile begins to grow across Mark’s face. He’ll have to store away Jackson’s offer for another day.

Jackson leans in, and Mark believes he can see his eyes shining or glittering in the dim light. “Only yours.” His lips are close to Mark’s ear, “You know, it’s pretty out.”

“Yeah.” Mark breathes out, face frozen for an instant unblinking in the direction of the fading sunlight.

“So are you Mark.”

Embarrassed, Mark turns his head, “Stop saying things like that.”

“How about handsome? Hot? Sexy? You know you’re very good looking,” Jackson says, rubbing his thumb on the back of Mark’s hand. “I’m ugly compared to you.”

“No you’re not,” – Mark turns his head back – “you’re good looking.”

Grinning, Jackson pulls back, “Now you’re just being nice. It’s okay Mark, I can look in the mirror.”

The sky is darkening fast with the loss of the sun and soon the only light in the park will come from the few light posts around the entrance. A chorus of crickets begins to chirp in the grass.

Everywhere Mark looks he sees Jesus.

“I’m serious Jackson, stop being so–” Mark’s ringtone blares its addictive melody from in his pants pocket. Pulling away, Mark slides his phone out to answer; it’s his mom.

“Hey mom, I’m still out. Oh. Yeah, I can. I can come back. No, it’s not a problem. I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

Jackson’s leaning forward with both his hands resting on his knees, “You need to get back?”

“Yeah, some friend or relatives dropped in I don’t know.” His mom made it sound like getting back home soon is important.

“We’ll do this again soon. Maybe not _this_ , but go out again,” Jackson says, twisting his cap around, and then he puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark nods his head, “Cool.” He’s staring off in the direction of Jackson’s motorcycle when the touch of Jackson’s fingers at his jaw turns his face around and lips slide over his own. Oh, this he could do again and again.

Jackson gets ten out of ten points for kissing skills – not that Mark has much to judge him against.

Slightly breathless, Mark pulls his head back. “We’re in public.”

Jackson’s hand rests at the back of Mark’s neck, “It’s dark, no ones here.”

“Oh yeah.” Mark moves in and captures Jackson’s lips, grabbing Jackson by the material of his shirt.

Not long after, Mark pulls back a second time. “We should stop. I have to get home.”

“Five minutes?” says Jackson, hands now roaming over Mark’s sides.

Mark licks his swollen lips, “Okay five minutes.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Stepping in through the door to the garage, Mark hopes he’s not in any trouble for taking so long to get home. In fact, those five extra minutes were more like ten minutes. He spent the entire car ride home praying no one would guess at anything he’d been doing tonight. Mark’s not sure he can lie his way out of this one if ‘I’ve been making out’ is written all over his face.

He can hear laughter and talking coming from the living room, so Mark kicks his shoes off and heads over. Rounding the corner, Mark notices his parents sitting on the couch, each with a glass of wine in hand, and a man Mark doesn’t know sitting in the armchair.

His mom sees him first. “Mark, you’re back. Come in here.” She waves him over with her free hand.

Mark takes two steps into the living room, “Hi.” From the way his parents are looking at him, Mark wishes he could turn around and go straight to his room.

“Mark this is Dr. Park, he’s a pastor, theologian, and on the council board for the seminary school we’re looking into. He’s actually a cousin of my good friend.”

Dr. Park smiles, “Hi Mark, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Mark puts on his best polite smile and wishes he had the ability to melt into the floor.

Unfortunately, he does not have super powers.

“Hello…nice to, nice to meet you Dr. Park.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you caught my puns


	12. Book 5:3

 

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

A soft rap came on Mark’s bedroom door. “Mark, we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” Mark’s mom says from the other side, “do you need me to help you with your tie?”

Mark drops his cell phone on his face – ouch – from where he’s lying prone on his bed, “No I got it.” His cell phone slides off his cheek to flop down on his bed.

“Okay.” The trail of footsteps away from his door tells Mark his mom has left him alone.

Picking up his phone, Mark takes in a deeper inhale; today is Jackson’s mock fencing match. For the first time, Mark doesn’t want to go to the church picnic. He doesn’t want to hand out prizes to kids, serve coffee and rolls, and put up Jesus decorations the kids in religious education made. Mark wishes he could be in two places at once to fulfill his duty to God and parents, but also cheer for Jackson to do well today.

Jackson’s probably already at the gym since they start practice early in the morning. In fact, he might be having his match right now. Even though Mark wished Jackson good luck the night before, he feels like he that wasn’t enough.

What should he do? He could call him and leave a voicemail, but what if Jackson forgot to put his phone on silent and Mark gets him in trouble. Mark loosens his tie, his collar feeling tight, and the idea dawns on him.

_Well, Jackson’s always asking him for pictures_.

Mark’s not sure he’s great at the sexy smolder; however, he’s sure the unbuttoned shirt, loose tie, and exposed skin will make up for his expression. When he presses send, a curl of excitement flows up within Mark.

_Good luck! I’m cheering for you :),_ he types out with both thumbs.

Biting his bottom lip, Mark shifts to a sitting position, legs planted on the floor. He’s not wild in the sense that Jackson’s wild. Yet, the more he tries new things, the more he decides he likes this brand new world he’s stepped into. It’s a rush different from what he experiences vicariously behind the screen of his laptop. Patting his knees, Mark sucks in his cheeks – he’s ready.

He stands up and slips his phone into his pants pocket. If he doesn’t leave his room soon, his mom is going to come and drag him out.

Mark takes the extra time to fix his tie and tuck his shirt in his pants to produce the sharp dressed look expected of him. Sometimes he wonders why he can’t just wear his khaki shorts and a polo when half the kids going to the church picnic are just going to come in shorts and t-shirts – definitely not their Sunday best.

Being the son of the pastor means people point and talk. The gossip eighty year olds can speak with never ending wind-flapping lips is astounding.

Not before long, another knock comes at his door, “Hey Mark, are you getting ready?”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

Mark checks his phone. No new messages.

He opens his door and standing right on the other side is his mom, purse slung over her shoulder, hair styled to perfection. Her hands go straight to fixing his crooked tie – he tried. “Your father’s loading the car. You should go help him.”

“Okay.” Mark’s eyes gaze to the side and he sees Bam Bam leaning against the doorframe of his room, half eaten banana in hand. He’s wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt because he doesn’t have to go with them. Bam Bam catches him looking and sticks his tongue out.

“You need to get a haircut. It’s getting long,” his mom says, sweeping his hair to one side of his forehead. “Like one of those Disney kids on the TV.”

Between school, lazing around the house, meeting up with Jackson and Jackson’s friends (who might just be his friends now too), and entertaining Bam Bam, Mark hasn’t even paid much attention to his hair growth. He shaves whatever beard hair he has in the morning, washes his face, and slaps on some lotion before deciding that’s as good as it’s going to get and concludes his mirror time.

“Oh.”

He could get one of those.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

His leg jiggles up and down on the bench of their changing room, tapping to the beat of the song playing through his mp3 player. He’s waiting for his teammates to hurry up and finish putting on their uniform since Jackson may have arrived twenty minutes early this morning. Energy flows through him, enough to almost vault him off the bench and begin the morning workout early.

Yugyeom drops down on the bench next to him, his shoes held between two fingers. “Hey, you ready for this?”

Jackson leans back to turn his head towards Yugyeom, “Yeah, I’m pumped.” He gestures to his mp3 player, “I’m getting into the mood.”

Yugyeom wiggles his foot into his shoe, “What? Eye of the tiger?”

“No, but,” Jackon says, punching the air, “almost.” A little hardcore rap always wakes him up in the morning.

“Dad said he’s going to treat today like a real meet. We’re supposed to be rivals.”

Jackson lays a hand on Yugyeom’s shoulder, “Come at me in two years kid.”

Yugyeom shrugs his hand off, “Don’t get cocky. Everyone’s trying to beat _you_ today.”

“Let them try, I’m on my game today.” Jackson removes the earbuds from his ears and grabs his mask from his bag. “Gotta go kick ass. Good luck Yugyeom.” He stands and stretches out his spine.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Yugyeom asks with one raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Your sabre?”

Jackson snaps his fingers, “Yes, I need that.”

“Maybe you need the good luck,” says Yugyeom while he ties his shoelaces. “Seriously Jackson.”

“Shut up.” Jackson picks up his sabre and grabs his gym bag with extra equipment just in case he’ll need it.

“You’re not going to bring that are you?” Yugyeom says, straightening in his seat, pointing at the cell phone Jackson’s been using as an mp3 player. “Dad got really mad last week when we had our phones out of the locker room.”

“Oh…right.” Jackson drops his bag on the bench and sticks his phone in the front zip pocket. “I’ll just lock this up.” He frees his hands to try his lock at the combination lock – it opens on the first go.

He’ll have to wait for after the practice matches are over to text Mark about how it went.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Jackson’s sipping on his sports drink, watching the match for third place begin. He’s got half a mind that Jake would win, but his speed isn’t as fast today for some reason. Nerves or sore muscles from the day before are giving Alex the advantage as he lands the first point.

“So,” his teammate sitting next to him – his opponent for the first place match – slides in closer. “You want to make a little bet before our match? I heard coach talking earlier.”

Jackson swallows and lowers his drink to his knee, “What do you mean?”

“Just to amp up the competition. Nothing serious. If you land less points than our last match or you lose, you have to…shave your head. If you land more points or win, I’ll shave my head.”

“I don’t really get it, but you’re on.” Someone’s shaving their head and the idea alone is enough to accept the bet.

He sure as hell isn’t shaving his head. Fuck that shit. The shaggy mop he has right now is the perfect look for him.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

His back is sweaty from standing outside in the sun wearing a long sleeved dress shirt, but the church picnic is being held in the large parking lot behind the actual church. Mark fans himself with the empty paper plate he’s holding, only a few more hours and they can start taking things down. At least this year there is a minimal amount of mess to clean up with extra church volunteers helping take care of the food booths.

The church’s raised a good amount of money to help pay for the rest of the year too. Enough to maybe pay for the leak in the roof or so Mark heard from his mom.

“Hi Mark.”

Mark startles and hits his chest with the paper plate.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dr. Park says. “How’s business going?”

Mark sets his makeshift fan back down on the table in front of him and looks at the state of the dessert table in front of him. A good portion of the different fruit pies have sold as well as most everything that had chocolate in it. He hasn’t had a customer for a while since most everyone is checking into the results of the silent auction.

“Pretty good. Do you want something?” Mark bites his lip. The more he sees Dr. Park because he’s in town visiting family, the more guilt settles in Mark’s stomach over seminary school.

“How about a brownie?” says Dr. Park, getting out his wallet and taking pulling out some bills. A giant chunk of brownie made by the volunteers at church is cheap, and Mark can attest to how good they taste.

Mark hands him the brownie wrapped in plastic wrap and takes his money to give him the appropriate change.

“I was talking to your dad earlier, and if you have time to come visit the school this semester that would work out. But, I’m sure you’re busy with school work, so once you’re done with classes is a good time to visit.”

Mark nods his head and drops two quarters in Dr. Park’s hand.

“I’m looking forward to having you and your parents come tour the school. We have a lot of opportunities in the ministry and it would be a great pleasure to share in faith with you.”

“Yes,” Mark says, “it sounds like a good school from what I’ve read.” He did take the time to read over the information his mom gave him. But then Jackson distracted him with texted promises of pizza and he set it aside for another day, which had yet to come.

“Great, you’ll make a good future pastor Mark. Keep up the good work.” Dr. Park puts his wallet back into his pants and steps back.

“Thanks.” Mark gives him a small wave, inwardly dying from the awkwardness of their conversation. When Dr. Park is out of sight, Mark rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands. The tension behind his eyes is beginning to get to him. Only a couple more hours of pain until the church picnic ends.

He fishes his cell phone out of this pants pocket, unlocks it, and stares at the empty main screen. Nothing’s changed, no new messages, no missed calls, and no emails. Mark has yet to get a response from Jackson; his phone hasn’t vibrated in his pants all day.

Now he needs to buy another brownie, or two.

_Hey Jinyoung,_ Mark types.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

“Ha ha, very funny. I look like a loser,” Jackson says, speaking into his phone. “I fucking hate you guys. Seriously. You’re all assholes with tiny dicks. Why the hell did Alex have a shaver in his bag? Did you guys plan this?”

He’s never taking his beanie off again, at least not until his hair grows long enough to keep his skull warm. He feels gutted. Winning the match is one thing, but having to shave his head because he didn’t do as well as a previous match hurts. His hair was perfect before the cut. Long enough for him to style up in a cap, and a great length for Mark to tug when they’re fooling around.

“Sure it’ll grow back before I know it,” Jackson complains, “but it won’t grow back over night!”

Jackson’s being a child about it, but a shaved head really cramps his swag. Fucking Yugyeom better be savoring this because it’s never happening a second time. He’s going to hand Yugyeom his ass back to him for laughing and Yugyeom will be the one to shave his head.

“I’ve got to go, I’m at my door, go do your homework or something…yes, no. Okay. Bye.” Jackson hits his phone with a sharp tap to end the call before getting his apartment keys out and sticking them in the lock.

He pushes open the door to his apartment harder than he needs to out of frustration, jamming the keys in the lock and yanking on the handle. The door lock sticks as it sometimes does because the building’s older despite recent renovations.

“Open!” Jackson tries the keys again, twisting the knob and pushing with his shoulder. “Stop being a little bitch.” The door gives way all of a sudden, catching Jackson off guard, causing him to stumble forward and almost trip inside.

“I’m sure he’ll like it. Give it a few days to wash out–” That’s definitely Jinyoung’s voice Jackson hears in his apartment.

“It looks like a murder scene in here. Sorry.” Mark’s voice follows. Now Jackson’s intrigued. Did Mark come over to celebrate his win, but also help console him for his loss of hair that Jackson has yet to mention to him?

Nora’s hanging around the living room, sitting on the windowsill and giving Jackson a wide-eyed look.

“Hey, who’s here?” Jackson calls out, setting his gear down by the entrance. “What are you doing?” His drags his sore body across the room to the hallway where the light from the bathroom is shining. He’s had a long day, and sleep will be a welcome activity when he lays himself down for the night.

Jinyoung steps outside of the bathroom before Jackson reaches close enough to peer inside. “Me, and Mark.”

“Oh hey,” says Jackson, and then he bypasses Jinyoung to enter the bathroom. “Mark I thought you were busy with your church picnic?” The fact that Mark’s standing in his bathroom shirtless, hair dripping wet, with a towel around his shoulders doesn’t faze him as much as he supposes it should.

Jackson puts a hand on his hip, “Did you skip? You should have come to the gym. Hey, why is your hair bleeding?”

Trails of red drips down from Mark’s forehead down the side of his face.

“It’s hair dye.” Mark wipes his face with the towel around his shoulders. “I didn’t skip, I was texting Jinyoung about my hair when I finished up and he said he’d bleach it.”

Jackson eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, “You let him,” – he points at Jinyoung – “mess with your hair?”

“You should have come back three hours ago when we started,” Jinyoung says, “it’s not that hard to do.”

“I was at a fencing team dinner. Oh my god what did he do to you? Is your hair going to fall out now?” Jackson reaches and touches the top of Mark’s head. “Are you going to go bald?”

If Mark goes bald, then Jackson and him will have couple haircuts. Yes, Jackson was at a fencing team dinner, but he was also getting tied down and having his head shaved.

“He’s not going to go bald,” says Jinyoung, squeezing in between the two of them to wash his hands in the sink. Red water from the hair dye solution paints the bottom of the shower tub and some splashes the inside of the white sink.

Jackson’s unconvinced, “And how do you know that? Where’d you learn to dye hair?”

“I have two older sisters,” Jinyoung answers, “I know things.”

“Ew.”

Jinyoung pinches Jackson’s arm, “Not those things.”

Mark’s drying his hair with the towel, and his lack of shirt is mesmerizing. Jackson hopes Jinyoung will take a hint and leave in the next few minutes so Jackson can take Mark back to his bedroom. Or maybe he’ll just take Mark back to his bedroom anyway – you only live once.

“Where’s JB?” Jackson asks, moving to lean against the wall behind him to get more space in the small bathroom.

Jinyoung shrugs, “I don’t know, I think he’s in his room.”

“Jaebum!” Jackson yells and slams his fist against the wall. “Get your ass out here.”

After a few seconds, the sound of a door opening is heard. “What the hell you want?”

“Nothing, just seeing if you’re alive,” Jackson says, voice raised because he’s in no mood to move from against the wall. “You let Jinyoung dye Mark’s hair?”

JB’s voice gets louder, “Why is that my fault? I just let them in.” He appears in the doorway with his arms crossed across his chest. “Will you guys stop being so loud? My cousin is over.”

“Youngjae’s here?” Jackson pushes off the wall and grips Mark by his bicep. “You three go play, I need to talk to Mark.”

Jinyoung whistles, “Oho. I see how it is.”

That’s right, Jackson thinks, you should know when you’re not wanted.

“Thanks Jinyoung,” Mark says as Jackson’s dragging him out of the bathroom and pulling him towards his bedroom. Jackson ignores the laughing that follows until he has his bedroom door firmly shut behind them.

Mark breaks free from his grip and removes the towel from around his shoulders. “Hey, so, congratulations on winning the fake competition.” He twists the towel in his hands. “Did you get my texts?”

Jackson plops down on his bed, “Yeah. Sorry about not responding sooner, I had to have my phone put away. If I had seen the picture you sent me, I don’t think I could have concentrated.” He wags his eyebrows and pats the bed next to him.

“So you liked that did you? I think I got it from all the hearts you sent,” Mark says, crossing his arms, “Can I go get my shirt?”

“Just put on whatever of mine,” says Jackson, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming over? I would have skipped my dinner.”

“It just happened.” Mark slipped one of Jackson’s plain black shirts with ‘852’ screen-printed on the front over his head. His wet hair is now half dry and beginning to stick up in all directions. “Then Jinyoung said it should be a surprise. Is it?” Mark pulls the shirt down and stares at the front.

Jackson leans back on his elbows to prop himself up, “Yeah, it is. Why red?”

“I like red.”

“Okay,” Jackson says, taking off his shoes and flicking them to the floor. “My little rebel with sexy red hair. Are you trying to get into my pants? Because you know, it’s working.” He winks, wets his lips with his tongue, and throws one leg over to the side.

“Jinyoung said it’ll fade fast, so you better enjoy while you can,” Mark says while moving to sit on the bed next to Jackson. “It’s not even dry yet. And my scalp hurts.”

Jackson crooks a finger at Mark, “Come here.”

Mark shuffles forward on the bed, “What?” Damp reddish hair sticks to his forehead, making his eyes seem brighter than before.

Even though his balance is wobbly, Jackson raises a hand to guide Mark’s face to his and locks their lips together. Mark smells like peroxide, but his lips are smooth and soft.

Pulling away, Jackson swallows down the saliva pooling in his mouth, tasting Mark is so sweet.

“Can you stay?” Jackson asks, hopeful to spend time alone with Mark.

“Not too long,” says Mark, shifting back with his butt hitting his heels, “my car’s parked on the street. My mom expects me back too.”

“Oh, okay.” Jackson calculates he has adequate amount of time to suck face with Mark, and he doesn’t want to waste any precious seconds. “Let’s celebrate my win. Show me that face you made in that picture again.”

Mark grimaces, lips pulling down, “I can’t do that again. How about a cute face?”

“No I want sexy Mark.”

“I’m not going to.” Mark slaps Jackson’s wandering hand away. “Why are you still wearing a beanie?”

Jackson grabs his beanie, remembering his shaved head. Fear spikes him through the chest because he’ll have to take the beanie off eventually and people will see his baldness. No, he can’t let that happen. He’s going to super glue his cap to his head.

Mark reaches for the sides of his beanie, “What happened to your sideburns?”

“I lost a bet,” Jackson says, hands instinctively going up to protect his head. “It’s awful, you can’t look.” He holds on to the sides of the beanie while Mark struggles to lift the beanie off his head.

Jackson cringes, “Stop stretching it!”

“Then let me look. I’ll see it eventually.” Mark’s long nails scratch over Jackson’s skin.

“No, I don’t want you to –”

Mark takes the fight to the next level, straddling Jackson and pushing him down on his bed. Jackson’s will to continue fighting ends the second Mark sits his bony ass on his stomach. He freezes, air wheezing out of his lungs, heart thumping within his chest.

One swift tug is all it takes for Mark to remove the beanie – and Jackson’s dignity – from Jackson’s head.

“What the…what the heck happened to your hair?” Mark’s voice sounds surprised, and he drops the beanie on the bed next to them.

“I lost a bet,” Jackson says, grumbling, lips drooping down in a pout. “Don’t fucking laugh.”

Mark stifles a laugh, lips pursing together, and his eyes tell all.

“I said don’t fucking laugh!” Jackson scrunches his eyebrows together and covers his head with his hands. “It’s terrible. I’m going to die.”

“You still have some hair up here,” Mark says, rubbing his fingers over the short hair follicles Jackson can’t believe are his. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not _that_ bad? Gee, thanks Mark. I look like a fucking monk.” Jackson’s embarrassed that Mark has to see him looking so unattractive. “I know I’m ugly right now.”

“You’re not ugly, I’ve had a shaved head too,” says Mark, still rubbing his fingers over Jackson’s scalp. “Hey, you know what? We both changed our hair today.”

Jackson’s lips turn up, “We’re the couple that messes with their hair together.”

“Yeah.” Mark pauses, and then squishes Jackson’s cheeks between both palms. “My parents are going to flip.”

“Well then, you just need to flip away your problems,” Jackson adds. “Maybe they’ll like it.”

“I don’t know.” Mark shakes his head. “Bam Bam does have strange hair and they’ve never commented about it. I’m screwed aren’t I?”

Jackson puts both of his hands on Mark’s hips. “Not yet you aren’t.”

Mark rolls his eyes, “Jackson.”

“What?”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

“Mark, is your hair red?” Bam Bam asks, stopping in the middle of the hallway with a plate of pizza and a glass of water in hand.

“Uh yeah,” Mark responds. He’s only been home for less than one minute and this is the first thing someone says to him.

His dad is a few steps behind Bam Bam with the entire take out pizza box in his hand because for some reason his family ordered pizza at eight PM. “Well, Mark that’s a different color.” He walks right on by to the living room.

“I like it, you want some pizza?” Bam Bam asks. “We’re having a movie night.”

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll just go wash my hands.”

Mark really thought his family would tell him to dye it back, or dye it a natural color. Apparently, they care less about his appearance than he thought. On his way to the kitchen, he passes his mom, and she catches on to his hair right away.

“What is this? It’s red.” She touches his shoulder, “Mark, if you wanted to dye your hair, you should have told me I would have made you an appointment with my stylist.”

Mark’s just glad his hair didn’t turn out orange.

“Maybe next time? Sorry, I should have said something first.”

“Hair dyeing is best left to the professionals. You didn’t have Jackson dye your hair did you? You’re always off with him. We should have him over for dinner sometime. I hope you pay for dinner when you’re with him to make up for him driving you all the time.”

“Ah no, it was a different friend. And I do pay for stuff.” Why is his mom guilt tripping him?

“I’ll call him and invite him to dinner sometime,” his mom says, eyes never leaving Mark’s hair.

“Mom, that’d be weird.”

“He’s your friend and we know him too. It’s not weird. We should treat him for what he’s done for you. You seem much happier and get out of the house more. Anything to get you off that laptop.”

Mark cringes at the thought of Jackson acting up around his parents, especially because they haven’t seen each other’s parents since before they started the whole dating thing.

Lord bring him strength.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...soon.


	13. Book 6:1

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

The delay in asking Jackson to a family dinner lingers in Mark’s mind since as much as he’d enjoy having a family dinner with him, the what if something goes wrong haunts him. Saying grace with Jackson by his side warms his heart, but it also stokes his fears.

First his mom was going to call Jackson and invite him, but she didn’t know his number. Being afraid of what might transpire if his mom called Jackson, Mark said he’d do it. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he said agreed to that.

“I don’t know,” Mark says, shoving a fry in his mouth, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The smell of fried food makes Mark’s stomach happy even though all he has left of his meal is his half eaten box of fries.

“You got to take a risk sometime Mark,” Jackson says, and then licks his salt coated greasy fingers. “Why not now?”

Mark rubs his fingers into his thin paper napkin to soak out the fast food grease coating his skin. He takes a moment to think while dipping a fry into his ketchup cup. Across the table, Jackson stares at him, expecting an answer of some sort.

“Don’t you trust me?” Jackson asks.

Interjecting, Bam Bam reaches over the table to take fries off Mark’s tray. “No, I don’t trust him.”

“I wasn’t asking you shortie.” Jackson frowns and crosses his arms, resting his elbows on the table.

Bam Bam points a fry at Jackson, “Shortie? You’re short. You’re like a little puppy. All bark bark bark.”

“Yeah? Well you’re one of those annoying ass seagulls outside.”

“Then I can fly and what can you? You got nothing.”

Mark dumps the remaining fries out of their box onto his tray before turning to his side and nodding his head at Yugyeom, Jackson’s fencing friend. “Sorry, they’re always like this.” Placing Jackson and Bam Bam in a room together spells trouble with a capital letter, but Mark’s sure they like each other. They just both won’t admit it.

“I see,” Yugyeom says. “I’m not surprised.” He leans in closer, tipping the drink cup in his hand, “So, you and Jackson?”

“What?” Mark mashes his lips together.

Meanwhile, Bam Bam and Jackson continue to argue over whether a puppy or a seagull is a more badass animal. The whole situation is ridiculous, yet Mark’s used to ludicrous conversations between those two.

Yugyeom sets his drink down on the table, “He told me.”

Mark tenses, nerves tightening his chest as a knot coils in his stomach. He hasn’t breathed a word about his relationship with Jackson other than to JB and Jinyoung, and he thought they were the only two who knew. Yugyeom’s is Jackson’s close friend, but if he knows, then whom else has Jackson been telling? Mark hasn’t even told Bam Bam, who bugs him about Jackson more than anyone else in his family.

Never mind that this is only his second time meeting Yugyeom in the first place.

“Yeah,” Mark says with a half smile and the ugly seeds of displeasure taking root in his mind. He’s nowhere near ready to let people know even if he puts on a brave front. Mark may have come to terms with liking Jackson rather easily, but he’s certain other people won’t do the same.

The thought alone is enough to keep him awake at night.

Yugyeom smiles, “It’s cute to see Jackson so happy. Please take care of him.” He cups a hand over his mouth and stage whispers, “He’s kind of an idiot.”

A quirk of a smile grows on Mark’s face at the easy teasing of Jackson. An idiot maybe not, but a loveable goof all the same – and so easily riled.

“Who?” Jackson says, loud voice breaking in, “Are you talking about me?”

“Yes,” Yugyeom answers, “we’re talking about you.”

“Better be good things, or else.” Jackson leans down, pressing his crossed arms down with more force on the table. He tilts his head, the tips of white teeth flashing through open lips.

At Mark’s side, Yugyeom laughs, an elbow nudging Mark’s tray to the side. “Yeah, all good things.”

“He’s lying,” Bam Bam says. “I like him. Yugyeom my brother.” He holds out his fist for Yugyeom to awkwardly bro fist him back.

Jackson pouts and pushes off from the table, “I don’t like this. Mark?”

Mark swallows the food in his mouth, “What?” To entangle himself in this mess will only make him have to choose a side. Of course, he’ll have to placate Jackson, but the bad voice inside him tells him to tease Jackson further.

“Don’t let them gang up on me.”

Picking up his very last fry, Mark stares Jackson in the eyes, “Why not?”

“Because you love me?” says Jackson after a short pause, his expression reminding Mark of a sad puppy.

Cheeks warming, Mark bites his lower lip, teeth digging in from both directions. “I just, Jackson. You can take care of yourself.”

“No he can’t,” Yugyeom points out, to which he receives a kick under the table. “Ouch!”

“Don’t mess with the person giving you a ride home later,” Jackson says, voice dropping low in an attempt Mark can only guess is to be threatening. However, seconds later Jackson’s narrowed eyebrows snap back into place.

Mark wipes his fingers on his napkin and twitches as a foot taps Mark’s inner calf.

Jackson has the makings of a smirk on his face, “So, you decided yet?”

“No, I’m not sure if I want to. I’ll let you know later.”

“Okay no rush there’s lots of time.”

Mark trains his eyes on Jackson, but has to look away to avoid falling into the trap of putting a lovesick sappy expression on his face. Jackson’s smile makes him weak in more ways than one. Yugyeom’s purple shirt is so very purple today. Yes, this high school boy is wearing a lilac purple plaid shirt.

“Mark, I am going with Yugyeom to go look at stores,” Bam Bam says, chair already scraping out from behind him as he stands up. A reluctant seeming Yugyeom pushes off from the table, food tray in both hands. “I will text you?”

Clearing his throat, Mark nods his head. “We’ll meet up in an hour, okay?”

“Sure,” says Bam Bam, pulling at the side of Yugyeom’s arm and turning away to walk in the opposite direction. Mark watches Bam Bam chatter away while Yugyeom tries to keep up.

Out of the corner of Mark’s eye, he catches Jackson stretching his arms out.

“So…” Jackson pushes the empty tray away to where Bam Bam was sitting earlier. “Now we’re finally alone. What do you want to do? Go make out in the men’s bathroom?” He laughs, grin never leaving his face. “I’m kidding! How about we get our belly button’s pierced.”

The mental image of Jackson’s muscular – yet hairy – abs showcasing a bejeweled sparkling gem makes Mark laugh. “No,” Mark says, “you’d look horrible with a belly button piercing.”

Jackson leans back, tilting his head to the side, “Excuse me? I’d look bad? Maybe you’re right, I’d look much better with a nipple piercing and _you_ can get the belly button piercing.”

“Why?” Mark crosses his arms and rests them on the table.

“Because they’re sexy.”

“No,” Mark says. “Why do I have to get the belly button piercing? Don’t say pretty.”

Jackson licks his lips, “Because…I can have fantasies too right? Don’t make me answer these questions. I just, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Sure, well I want ice cream.”

“Then let’s get some.” Jackson stands up before Mark can even react, “Come’on, you coming?”

“Uh, yeah.” Mark gathers his trash and stands. He hadn’t been very serious about wanting ice cream and now he’s getting some. “You think perverted things about me don’t you?”

Jackson puts his hands in his pants – the droopy drop crotch ones – and turns his head to speak, “All the time.”

Mark decides it is much safer to not know than to know what goes on in the dark inner workings of Jackson’s brain.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark stops the loaded plastic dish of ice cream Jackson slides across the tabletop from spilling into his lap. “I wanted a sundae.” He licks off the bit of fudge he’d gotten on his thumb.

Jackson hands Mark a spoon, “Shut up and eat your banana split.”

The spoon slices through the soft vanilla ice cream with ease, scooping up hot fudge and sprinkled pecans along the way. Free ice cream is the best ice cream. Mark only complains because he likes to see Jackson flustered.

As the first bite slides its way down his throat, Mark remembers he’s supposed to be asking Jackson to a family dinner. The thought ruins part of the ice cream eating experience. He fidgets, playing with his spoon in the ice cream before Jackson raises an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asks, hand stopped mid motion in cutting a chunk of banana up with his spoon. A little kid runs past their table in the food court, their mom pushing a stroller and yelling after them.

“Nothing,” Mark answers then pops the spoon in his mouth.

Jackson shrugs his shoulders, “If you say so.”

Mark releases a breath of air before taking the plunge, “My parents want me to invite you over for a family dinner.”

“Oh, okay cool.” Jackson’s uses his spoon to scrape the side of the plastic dish. “When?”

“I don’t know, is next Friday or Saturday good for you?”

Maybe Jackson isn’t afraid of the whole meet the parent’s scenario since he’s familiar with Mark’s family. Meanwhile, Mark’s sure he’d be sweating buckets if he were stuck in a room with Jackson’s relatives. Then he’d make an excuse to go hide in the bathroom and escape out the window.

“I’ve got practice for the competition every weekend, but Friday nights I always have free. I didn’t make plans to drink with JB, so yeah, I can do a family dinner.”

“Thank you. My parents have been on my case about this. They say I spend so much time with you they haven’t seen me enough.”

Jackson licks his spoon clean before answering back, “Of course you do. I don’t want to give you up to anyone.”

“They’re my parents.”

“Yeah? And you’re mine too right?”

Mark’s chest feels light and airy and he almost chomps down on his tongue instead of his spoon. Feeling wanted by someone warms his heart and his face. One of Jackson’s hands touches the side of his cheek; fingers cool against Mark’s heated skin.

“You’re so cute.”

Swatting Jackson’s hand away, Mark frowns, “I am not cute.”

“You’re totally cute.” Jackson grins, cheeks rising high, “Ah, I’m gonna take a picture of our date.”

Just where is Bam Bam when Mark needs him?

“Jackson, you’re driving me crazy.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Mark opens the front door before Jackson even gets two feet up on the front step. Seeing Jackson wearing a pair of regular jeans and polo makes him take a huge sigh of relief. One half of him is thankful Jackson didn’t show up in his normal baggy pants and shirts, and the other half is incredibly turned on by Jackson’s clean-cut look.

Jackson really is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

However good Jackson’s appearance is right now, shoving him up against the side of the house and kissing him in front of the neighborhood is not an option. Doing that in his bedroom might not even be an option unless he locks the door and puts a chair under the handle. Wait a minute, that might just work if he can find a suitable excuse for them being in there in the first place.

He’s going to need Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the saints to help him out of this one.

Taken aback, Jackson’s eyebrows raise up his forehead, “Were you watching for me?”

“I got lucky and saw you from the living room window.” Mark chews on the inside of his cheek. Yeah, he’d been watching for Jackson since Jackson had texted him that he was leaving. “You look good.”

Jackson enters the house, steps out of his shoes, and pats down his short hair, “Thanks, I had to dig for these clothes. Ha ha, I almost thought I’d have to borrow something from JB, but you know how this ass won’t quit. But, yeah, gotta put on a good impression.” He grabs Mark by the back of the neck and squeezes his skin, “Right?”

Shoulders rising, Mark bends down. “Stop stop stop that tickles.”

“Hi Jackson, we’re so glad you could come for dinner with us tonight.” Mark’s mom steps into the entryway, “Dinner should be soon. Mark be a good host while I’m cooking.”

“Okay,” Mark says, half to his mom and the other half to Jackson. His mind races with the possibility of getting Jackson alone for a few minutes. “Want to see my room? I have a playstation.” He nudges Jackson with his elbow.

“Yeah sure. Whatever’s good with me.”

Mark gestures for Jackson to follow him, leading the way to his room. He can tell Bam Bam’s in his room from the music playing through the half open door, but Mark decides he wants to avoid Bam Bam for these precious moments. As soon as Jackson’s inside he room, Mark closes the door with a quiet click.

“I haven’t played video games in a while, so I might be bad. Sorry,” says Jackson, making his move towards the television in Mark’s room.

Mark pulls at Jackson’s arm, blocking him from moving too far away. “We’re not going to play video games.”

Jackson blinks, “We aren’t?”

“No.” Mark’s mouth is practically salivating. “We’re not.”

“You just said that.” Jackson takes a step back, cocking his head to the side. “Heyyy. Are you thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking?”

Mark leads Jackson backwards and pushes him down to sit on his bed – he’d even made it up nice today. “What?”

Jackson’s eyes narrow when Mark sits down next to him, “Mark, I didn’t know you were so dirty like this. You’re family is right out there in the kitchen. Actually, that’s kind of hot. God damn. Oh wait, fuck, do I need to do the sign of the cross or something shit sorry.”

Heart beating faster, Mark decides the best way to fix his attraction to Jackson tonight is by getting it out of his system. He figures they’ve got maybe fifteen, twenty, minutes before his mom is done with dinner. Grabbing the TV remote off his bedside table, Mark switches the television on in case of an emergency like his parents knocking on his door.

“Jackson, shut up. I’m really nervous about this.”

Admitting his anxiety makes him feel weak.

“Yes sir.”

Jackson’s hand curls around the back of his neck again, but gentler this time. His fingers stroke the short hair at Mark’s hairline, “Just relax.” Mark lets his head be guided to the side, resting one of his hands on Jackson’s thigh. He inhales when their lips meet, eyes closing to avoid Jackson’s deep stare.

Sweet relief flows through Mark, releasing the tension coiled up in his stomach. He would stay here with Jackson for hours if he could. Breathing slowing, Mark concentrates on the soft touch of Jackson’s lips and the warm swipes of his tongue. With each passing second Mark relaxes, finding that this is exactly what he needs.

Mark breaks the kiss to swallow, but rests his forehead against Jackson’s.

“Mark,” Jackson says, voice low and rough. “We can never do it in your room.” His hand strokes the back of Mark’s neck, sending shivers down Mark’s spine.

“Why?”

Jackson licks his wet lips and speaks in a serious tone. “I don’t feel comfortable with Jesus watching us.”

The dam inside Mark bursts, laughter spilling out his mouth, and he breaks free from Jackson to fall backwards on his bed. Tears form in the corners of his eyes as he clutches his stomach. He’s going to be delirious with the hilarity of Jackson afraid of the religious images on his walls.

A painted statue of Jesus from his grandma sitting on his dresser, the cross hanging on his wall, and the inspiring bible quote posters taped on his walls is hardly disturbing. At least, Mark doesn’t find this anything out of the normal. It’s nowhere near the things his dad has in his personal office. His Bible isn’t even sitting out in the open.

“There’s only one Jesus in here.” Mark wipes at his eyes.

“Um, excuse me? What about the huge ass picture of Jesus staring straight at us.” Jackson points at the picture in question with his hand. “That thing. Right there.”

Oh yeah, Mark forgot about that picture. “Jackson, that’s the last supper.”

“The last what?”

“Didn’t you see the Da Vinci Code?”

“Ohhh, that last supper. I knew it was familiar. Hey, is that movie for real?”

Mark hits Jackson’s back with the back of his hand.

“What?? I haven’t taken my theology class yet.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

Mark’s dad pulls out a chair in front of him, “Here Jackson, sit next to Mark.” The table is set for six – Mark’s parents, his younger brother, Mark’s annoying foreign exchange student, Mark, and him.

Shuffling forward, Jackson takes a seat, glad that dining at Mark’s house appears to be informal. He’s had dinner with Mark’s family at restaurants in the past, yet home turf is another thing. The best thing he can do is to mimic everything Mark does.

His stomach is rumbling at the food Mark’s mom cooked, and he bets it’s every ounce as delicious as it smells. After eating cereal for every meal yesterday, a home cooked meal is a blessing.

“I’ll say grace first,” Mark’s dad says, and Jackson’s eyes widen. “Bless us O Lord, for these…”

What is he supposed to do? Besides him, Mark and the rest of his family – even Bam Bam – bow their heads. Jesus fuck, Jackson thinks, folding his hands in his lap and staring at them while the rest of them recite a prayer he doesn’t know the words to.

“…Christ Our Lord. Amen.” Mark’s dad nods his head and then the grace is over before Jackson knew it. “Let’s dig in,” says Mark’s dad with a smile. “Good to see you Jackson, next time we’ll have your parents over too.”

Jackson picks up his chopsticks, “Yeah, it’s good to see everyone again, and I’m sure my parents would love that.”

Mark passes him a plate of food, “Have some of this.”

“Does anyone want milk?” Mark’s mom asks, “I forgot to get it out.”

Mark’s brother, who’s sitting on Jackson’s other side, shrugs, “Maybe later.”

Passing food around the table brings Jackson back memories of when he was younger in Hong Kong. Relatives were always visiting and meals were often more than just his parents and brother. Now, his family is split across continents with some here, and some there. Time has changed many things over the years.

The food is mouthwateringly good, a mixture of tangy, savory, and the taste of home. Between bites of rice and meat, Jackson paces himself to leave room for the pie sitting on the kitchen counter.

Swallowing, Jackson wipes his mouth off with a napkin. “The food’s great Mrs. Tuan!”

“Thank you Jackson, it’s nothing much really.”

“Jackson eats a lot of cereal,” Mark says. “He doesn’t eat healthy.”

Mark’s mom sets her chopsticks down, “What? You’ll need to come over for dinner more. Cereal isn’t very good.”

“I don’t eat that much cereal,” Jackson says, giving his betrayer, Mark, the eye. “But, I’d love to have more of your cooking.”

“You should,” Mark’s dad speaks up, “When you’re with Mark just come over. We have plenty.”

“So, what have you and Mark been up to lately? He’s always out of the house.” Mark’s mom has a bright smile on her face, and she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear while leaning in. “You two are joined at the hip. It’s cute.”

Jackson freezes, _well shit here we go._

“Well, you see…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon i swear it


	14. Book 6:2

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

**MARK**

 

Mark’s never had an anxiety attack before, he’s had his share of stage fright, but there’s a first time for everything. Just like there’s a first for spilling hot soup on Jackson’s crotch even if he’s his boyfriend and he should treat him better. Mark’s heart rate spikes in his chest as if jolted by a bolt of lightning.

“He’s teaching me.” Mark’s mouth moves faster than his brain can think up a white lie to cover his tracks. “Um…yeah, we hang out.” Keep it cool, Mark thinks even though he can feel sweat on his palms. “Right?” He turns his head to the side and stares at Jackson.

Jackson narrows his eyebrows for a few seconds that seem to drag out forever. “Oh yeah, I’ve been showing Mark my hobbies. Except fencing, he might hurt himself.”

Mark chuckles to ease his nerves, “What?” He voice almost squeaks, his throat tense. “I would not.”

He’s going to have to have a talk with Jackson later. Though, he may have to listen to the whole sounds of Italian choirboys singing psalm hymns CD to calm down before doing so. Mark swallows to clear his dry mouth.

“That sounds nice,” Mark’s mom cuts in, “don’t get into too much trouble. Take Bam Bam with you sometime.”

“Ehh, they should have fun while they’re young,” Mark’s dad says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. His mom picks up her wine glass and takes a sip in response.

Bam Bam clacks his chopsticks against his plate, “Yeah, please. I want to learn American culture. Show me Mark.”

Relaxing, Mark releases some of the tension between his shoulders with a quiet breath. “Don’t you learn that with Joey in school?” Mark gives his younger brother a glance, leaning in around bodies. Somehow Mark’s always dragging Bam Bam around on the weekends when that should be his brother’s job since they’re close in age.

“Yeah, but we see each other all the time. I want to see the life of a college student.” Bam Bam speaks with such confidence in his words that Mark has a hard time coming up with an excuse to turn him down.

“Uh…” Mark picks up a piece of broccoli on his plate, “I guess we could sometimes…” Darn, there goes more of his free time with Jackson. “Jackson?”

Jackson’s wiping his mouth with a napkin, “What?” His eyes widen. “Oh, sure, you can come over someday.”

“Awesome,” Bam Bam’s says with a cheerful tone. “Oh, oops.” Mark snorts; his eyes had been following Bam Bam reaching for more meat with his chopsticks. The piece of chicken trapped in between the chopsticks travels halfway to Bam Bam’s plate before it escapes and falls on the table with a splat.

Bam Bam’s mouth falls open, “I dropped my chicken!”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

His collar has been feeling tighter as the night at Mark’s house has progressed. Enough to the point where Jackson’s popped the two buttons open and stretched out the collar. These preppy clothes stifle his inner swag trying to burst through, and his balls miss all the room they had in his drop crotch pants.

The things he’ll do for Mark.

“Do you want to stay for a bit, or do you have to go?” Mark asks as they’re loading the plates into the dishwasher. To the side, Mark’s dad is sealing up the leftovers in containers for the fridge giving Jackson no room to cop a feel when Mark bends over.

“Well, I don’t have to be up super early tomorrow morning. Want to finish that _game_ we were playing earlier?”

“Game?” Mark stuffs another glass into the top drawer. “ _Oh_. Yeah, that game. Let’s.”

Jackson hands Mark the last plate in his hands. “Cool.” However, the memories of Jesus and all his friends linger at the thought of Mark’s bedroom.

Finished, Mark rolls the drawers back and shuts the dishwasher after tossing in the soap pack. Jackson leans against the countertop while Mark starts the cycle, admiring how nice Mark’s house is on the inside for the nth time. No matter how many times he comes to Mark’s house, besides all the religious paraphernalia, it’s almost straight out of a magazine.

“What game?”

Speak of the devil itself in the form of a certain foreign exchange student himself.

Bam Bam moves across the room from the dining table to where Jackson and Mark are next to the dishwasher. “What game are you playing?”

Damn this kid, Jackson thinks, next he’s going to ask if he can play too. There are only so many times Bam Bam can cockblock Jackson at getting what he wants. Jackson wants to pet Bam Bam on the top of his fluffy little multicolored head then menacingly tell him to back off, Mark’s mine.

“Can I play? I like video games.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

The edge of Mark’s bed frame is digging into Jackson’s back, so he shifts to try and get into a more comfortable position – it doesn’t really work. In front of him, his game character ascends up a metal staircase in an abandoned bunker. He’s searching for ammo, or a new gun, or something better than the handgun he picked up earlier in the game.

Out of nowhere, Bam Bam’s character pops up from behind a crate and opens fire.

“Bam Bam,” Jackson says in frustration, “stop shooting at me we’re on the same team!” His fingers button mash on the controller at the sudden confrontation while he tries to run away. Seconds later his character collapses on the floor. “You just shot at me, again.”

“Oops,” says Bam Bam, but Jackson detects no hint of remorse in his inflection. “I forgot the rules.”

Jackson rests his controller on his lap while he waits for his character to respawn after what must be the third time he’s been taken out by Bam Bam. If Bam Bam wants to play this way, he’s going to snipe the little bastard next time he finds him out in the open. Not that he holds grudges, but he does.

“Mark, Bam Bam keeps killing me.” Jackson turns to glare at Bam Bam, who’s sitting in between him and Mark on the floor with their backs to Mark’s bed.

“So?” Mark’s eyes quickly flit from the TV to Jackson then back to the TV again.

Pointing at the TV with his controller, Jackson frowns. “We’re on the same team.”

Mark tilts his head to the side, “Bam Bam, stop killing Jackson. You’re on the same team.”

A smile grows on Jackson’s face; sweet victory is his since Bam Bam usually stops once threatened by Mark. At least, the method has worked for Jackson in the past, a few times. He pulls his legs in and crosses them. His character is ready to rejoin the game, and with a push of a button he’s ready to start all over, again.

“Okay,” Bam Bam says, “after this time.”

Jackson moves his character forward not even four steps when bright red splashes over his screen and then his split view fades to black.

“God damn it Bam Bam! I just came back.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

By the time Jackson steps out of the Tuan’s front door, the sun is all but a sliver of orange on the horizon. Behind him, Mark follows with bare feet against the concrete up to where Jackson parked his motorcycle.

“Sorry about Bam Bam,” Mark says as Jackson’s picking up his helmet. His voice is low and soft as he speaks.

“It’s okay.” Jackson puts his helmet on, securing it to his head with an extra push. “I had fun.” Sure, he’d have had more fun if it was just he and Mark, but even with Bam Bam stabbing him in the back he enjoyed it.

“Thanks for coming over, I think…I think it went well.” Mark crosses his arms and rubs his skin with his hands.

Jackson chuckles, “Went well? I thought I was going to shit myself when your dad asked me what I was going to do after college.” He gets enough of that from his own family thank you.

“Yeah?” Mark purses his lips. “Well I thought I was going to have a heart attack when my dad asked what we do all the time and you started talking.” He grimaces and adjusts his arms. “You told Yugyeom.”

“Huh?” Jackson decides to let his keys stay in his pocket for the moment. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything about us to your family. I’m not a dick.” He sighs and places a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I know it’s not easy. You know, it’s really fucking hard okay. But, I would never do that.”

Mark face turns down to the ground. “Sorry…I just can’t. Not now.”

Maybe not ever, Jackson believes are the words lingering unsaid on the end of Mark’s tongue. Jackson doesn’t care about those things, but he does care about Mark. Sometimes he cares so much it scares him and he has to listen to hardcore rap music to calm down.

“Hey,” – Jackson squeezes Mark’s shoulder – “It’s okay.”

Mark holds his head up and there are splotches of red on his cheeks that weren’t there before. “Thanks.” He bites at his lower lip. “What about Yugyeom? He knows.”

“Oh, I uh, I told him.”

Mark shrugs off Jackson’s hand.

“He’s my close friend, I can’t hide things like that from him, he threatens me and shit. He is not innocent like he looks,” Jackson says, clasping his hands together. “But I won’t tell anyone else without you. That okay?”

Mark’s lips twitch, “Yeah. Okay.”

“But you should tell Bam Bam because seriously, he needs to know. I can’t put up with it anymore.” Jackson puts his hand on his hip to be dramatic, “He’s here, there, and everywhere lately. He so cramps my swag.”

“Did you really just say that?” Mark says with a straight face.

Turning away from Mark, Jackson kicks up the kickstand, swings his leg over, and sits on his motorcycle before Mark further harasses him with his emotionless stare. “Don’t question my swag.” Jackson frees his keys from his pocket and sticks them in the ignition, turning the key to start up the engine. “I’ll text you later? And, let me know sometime if you want to come or not to my fencing team’s celebration night next week.”

“Yeah, okay I will later. See you.” Mark moves out of the way for Jackson to make a short turn instead of backing out. “Bye Jackson.”

Jackson coasts to the street, then glances back at Mark standing barefoot in his driveway one last time. “Bye!”

When he sees Mark’s reflection smiling as he waves through his side mirror, and warmth spreads throughout Jackson’s body.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Arms resting on a floaty mat, Mark lets his legs drift out back without moving a muscle. Floating away in the middle of the pool is a relaxing way to spend a warm afternoon in the middle of the week. He hasn’t swum in a while and he could use the exercise. Also his parents tend to gripe about having to upkeep the pool when kids are still in the house and no one’s using it.

If there wasn’t the real fear of drowning like this, Mark could nap right here right now. Though, he rather enjoys breathing air and not chlorine treated pool water.

The sliding glass door to the kitchen opens, startling Mark into opening his eyes.

“You’re swimming without me,” says Bam Bam. He still has his backpack slung over one shoulder and must be straight from school. “Why?”

Mark shifts to let his feet touch the bottom of the pool; his toes just graze the bottom. “It’s hot.” He squints since the sun is in his eyes from the angle he is trying to see Bam Bam by the house.

Dropping his bag on the concrete, Bam Bam walks over and sits down at the edge of the pool, dangling his legs in the water. He hikes up the bottom of his shorts to not get them wet. “This feels good.”

Mark abandons his floaty and doggy paddles closer with intent to splash Bam Bam.

“I want to go back to the beach again. That was nice,” Bam Bam says, kicking his legs out. “Your friends are nice. Except Jackson.” He sticks his tongue out then laughs.

“Maybe in a few weeks,” Mark says, grabbing Bam Bam’s heels. Water rises to his chin when he uses Bam Bam to pull himself lower into the water.

Kicking out, Bam Bam clicks his tongue. “Why not soon?”

“I have to go to a thing with Jackson next weekend.” Honestly, Mark hasn’t decided whether he wants to go, but he’ll probably end up going. He doesn’t have plans, he could use getting out of the house after his exam next week, and he’d be with Jackson.

“Thing?” – Bam Bam extends his legs out – “What kind of thing?”

Mark legs float out back behind him, “Adult only thing. Sorry no teenagers.”

“I want to be in college too.” Bam Bam slides his hands behind him and leans back. “No fair, high school is no fun.”

The mere thought of Bam Bam in college makes Mark glad he’s still a teenager in high school. He’s not sure he could handle an older version of Bam Bam yet. Sixteen year old Bam Bam is hard enough some days. May the good lord watch over his soul.

“You’re still a baby,” Mark says, keeping his head afloat over the waves Bam Bam’s making by sweeping his arms out. “Baby Bam Bam.” He smiles and Bam Bam frowns.

“You sure Jackson’s not your _boyfriend_?” Bam Bam says, teasing out his words.

A heavy weight presses down on Mark’s chest making him tense up. He deliberates between saying something and letting it pass. In the end, he clams up, mouth unable and unwilling to speak what’s weighing him down.

“Bam Bam for the last time no.”

The heavy weight against his chest subsides, but he still can’t do it. He’s lacking the shining courage Jesus faced with his adversaries he’s always been taught to emulate.

Mark holds his breath and submerges.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

The quiet sound of computer keyboards, footsteps, and pages turning is Mark’s symphony for the day. Even though it’s background music boring enough to lull most people to sleep, Mark’s had an eight ounce coffee and is as awake as he’s going to get.

Clicking his pen, Mark stares at his notebook full of half legible notes in front of him. Ah, this must have been the day he was zoning out and half asleep. He rests his elbows on the table in front of him, reaches behind his head, and massages his neck. What he needs to get on this next exam is only a B.

Why does that seem like such an unbelievable goal right now?

Somewhere between deciding if he should rewrite this page of notes or plunge straight into the possible essay choices his table in the library is invaded. Jinyoung plops down at the chair to Mark’s left, backpack still on his back. To Mark’s other side, Jackson pulls out a chair to turn it around and straddle it – that’s not how you use a chair.

The first words out of Jackson’s mouth are, “Hey Mark, whatcha doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Mark fires back, flipping his notebook over so neither of them can see his sad excuse for notes.

“Class project,” Jinyoung says, “I need to find some articles to write on. Jackson came along.”

“Hey, I need to check out a book too,” says Jackson while resting his chin on the top of the chair back, arms lying boneless out at his sides. “And we found a Mark. What good luck.”

Mark rests his cheek on a bent fist, “I’m studying.”

“Really? You study?” asks Jinyoung as if he doesn’t believe Mark. Though, to be honest Mark doesn’t believe he’s doing much studying either.

“Leave me alone,” Mark says, groaning. “I’m tired.”

Jinyoung grins, face lighting up, “Jackson keeping you awake?” He touches Mark’s shoulder and lets out a quiet laugh with his eyes narrowing.

“Fuck I wish,” Jackson says. “We haven’t gotten together since last weekend.” His lips droop downwards into a sad smile and half a pout, all of which make the razor accident he calls his eyebrows stand out more. “Classes suck. Practice sucks. But I know all about sucking, am I right? Or am I right?”

“Gross. Oh.” Jinyoung snaps his fingers, “Is Mark coming Friday? Mark are you coming with us Friday?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Mark turns his head to the side he’s resting against his hand. “Maybe? I don’t know.” He knows none of Jackson’s friends besides JB and Jinyoung, and he might die from sheer awkwardness.

“Maybe? You have plans?” Jinyoung says.

“No not really.”

Jinyoung smiles, “Then come for Jackson’s team’s celebration. It’ll be fun. Jaebum and I will be there. Come.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, Jinyoung likely means that JB and he will be in charge on him for the night. He can only imagine what kind of messed up things will happen when he’s with the two of them for the night. Then again, he might not want to miss this opportunity before his college career is over. “Well…”

“Hey hey hey if Mark doesn’t want to go he doesn’t have to go,” Jackson cuts in, lifting his head off the chair. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

Sitting up, Mark weighs his options in his head. He could either go along with Jackson and make some memories, or stay at home and watch a movie with his parents. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to decide after laying out the options in black and white.

“I’ll go since JB and Jinyoung will be there too.”

“Sweet,” says Jinyoung, getting out his phone. “I’m going to text Jaebum. This Friday is going to be the bomb.”

 _Who taught Jinyoung how to use American slang?_ , Mark thinks.

“You sure?” Jackson asks as if he expects Mark’s going to change his mind again or something.

Mark drums his fingers on his notebook, “Yeah. You know, I think it’ll be fun.”

“Then get ready to get,” – Jackson lowers his voice – “fucked up. You’re sleeping over that night and I don’t take no for an answer.”

“Yeah okay,” says Mark. He always sleeps over at Jackson’s apartment after drinking. Though, to be honest he really only ever drinks these days with Jackson.

Really, how bad could a bar crawl be anyway?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> walking the path


	15. Book 6:3

 

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

  
**MARK**

 

The strumming beat of heavy bass pounds through the speaker above Mark’s head with a beat so loud he thinks his head is vibrating.

Mark slides his change back into his wallet, feeling the loss of his fun-money, as it will slowly disappear over the night. He only brought two twenties, which should be more than enough to cover him and maybe then some, but bars are expensive. Even bars that are giving them a group bar crawl discount are expensive for him seeing as he doesn’t have a job right now. His job of helping his parents out around the house and at church brings in some extra money until he gets his youth group job back over the summer.

He sets a one-dollar bill down on the bar when the bartender sets his tequila sunrise – a recommendation by Jinyoung – down in front of him. Mark picks the drink up and swirls straw around, mixing the alcohol around, the first sip tastes strongly of alcohol.

“How is it?” Jinyoung has his hands around his own drink, a simple rum and coke.

Mark clears his throat, “Strong. It’s good.” If he mixes up it a bit more and lets the ice melt, it’ll be perfect.

“Next bar we’re doing shots.” Jinyoung pinches the back of JB’s shoulder, who’s seated on a bar stool to Jinyoung’s right. “Hyung we’re doing shots.”

JB tilts his beer bottle towards Jinyoung. “Do whatever you want. I’m only drinking beer tonight.”

“You’re no fun, do a shot of beer with us then.”

Mark strains his ears to hear what JB says in return, but the group of Jackson’s fencing team friends to his left erupt in laughter and with the loud music playing in the bar he misses the last half of the conversation. He decides he likes the first bar they went to better than this one because it wasn’t as loud or crowded at the bar. Well, the bitterness clouding this bar may have something to do with Jackson ditching him the second they walked in and hasn’t been seen since. Thankfully, Jinyoung and JB are here or Mark would be floating in a sea of awkward fighting against a tide of small talk and getting caught in the reefs of drinking alone.

One thing he has yet to fix is the more awkward the situation is the faster he drinks and the quicker he regrets being halfway to drunk.

“Where’s Jackson?” JB half yells out to them.

The buzz in Mark’s head makes him shrug his shoulders and loll his head to the side, “Dunno. Over there?” He points to his left and takes a long sip. All he knows for certain is that they’re spending at least a half an hour or longer at each bar before they move to the next one.

“Oh, cool. Hey, are you going to Jackson’s fencing meet? You can ride with us we’re going,” says JB, leaning over to be heard.

“Um…I have to check the date first.” For the life of him, Mark can’t remember if he has an important class related thing to do that day. He’s pretty sure Jackson said the big meet starts on a Friday. “I can go later if I have to.”

Wait a second, just how are Jinyoung and JB planning on going if neither of them can drive a car in the U.S.? Mark doesn’t think he’d feel safe with either of them being the wheel. Not that he doesn’t trust the two of them, he’s not sure if he’d trust the two of them with his life yet. Being alive and being afraid for his life are two different things.

“Cool,” says Jinyoung. He bobs his head to the beat and picks at the napkin under his glass, nudging JB in the side and speaking to him in Korean. Mark’s beyond the capacity of picking up what Jinyoung is saying – concentration and focus be damned.

He wets his mouth with a long sip from his drink and relaxes into his barstool. Even though he’s new to the bar crawl scene, it’s fun and different from the house parties he’s been to over the past semester. Perhaps Jackson and he can go to a bar sometime after classes are done for the week. The beat of the music brightens his spirits, brings a tap to his feet, and warms him up inside.

His cup may not be overfloweth with holy wine, but from it flows a dangerous fire.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

With the burn the tequila still in his mouth, Mark takes to Jinyoung’s suggestion without a second thought. He finds Jackson in the crowded bar/club; Mark’s unsure what this place is really, but there’s a DJ and a small dance floor and Jackson’s in the thick of it. Weaving past people, Mark forces his way through to latch his arms around Jackson’s back.

Jackson jerks and turns his head around, “Mark!” He stumbles forward, catching his footing and dragging Mark with him. “Where have you been?”

Smashing his cheek into Jackson’s back, Mark mumbles into Jackson’s t-shirt. “Did a tequila shot with Jinyoung.” Jackson is warm against his skin, almost too warm for the sweat clinging to the back of Mark’s neck.

“Jesus fuck,” says Jackson, his hands grabbing Mark’s elbows from where Mark’s back hugging him. “Are you drunk?” Fingers squeeze around the points of Mark’s bones. “How many?”

Mark sways to the beat of the music, “Sure. Let’s dance or something.” He’s drunk, Jackson’s drunk, everyone is drunk, what difference does it make? He’s fine with standing here and leaning against Jackson, smelling his cologne, or maybe that’s his deodorant, and someone’s hand is on his ass. Wait.

“Don’t touch my, don’t touch my ass.” Mark breaks his hold to swat at the person behind him. The amount of people squished together in the small space is now making him feel uncomfortable. He’s pretty sure only Jackson is allowed to touch his ass right now. Yes, that is how it is.

The offending hand removes itself, although, not soon enough because Jackson pulls him to his side. “Did someone touch your ass?” He frowns, looking behind them, “Alissa did you touch his ass?”

“Jenna did it,” a girl said, laughing. “I dared her. Sorry Jackson.”

“Damn it Jenna! I said no Mark, Mark is off limitss,” says Jackson, speech a bit slurred. Mark swallows and pats Jackson’s butt for good measure.

“It’s okay, I don’t care.”

Jackson grins, his arm tightening around Mark’s waist. “That’s my ass right?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders. “Sure.” Jackson can say whatever he wants, but Mark’s certain he owns both his ass and Jackson’s ass thank you very much.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

Bar three turns into bar four that turns a barstool and a tall glass of water filled with ice.

“Jackson,” Mark curls his hands on Jackson’s arm. “Heeeeey! How’re you?” His stomach sloshes back and forth, but Mark’s sure he isn’t going to puke. Nope, he’s not going to puke. Definitely not. He doesn’t do that puking thing.

The last bar on their stop couldn’t come at a better time for Mark doesn’t think he has any room for any more alcohol in his system. He’s not sure he has room for the glass of water he’s been drinking since everything he drinks seems to want to go straight through him.

He swears he was dancing at the third bar, but for the life of him he can’t remember why he thought that was a good idea. It’s all Jinyoung’s fault for giving him that shot of tequila and telling him to go put his hands on Jackson’s hips.

Yes, Jinyoung’s such a spock haired dick face.

Jackson leans inwards, “Hey Mark, I’m good! I’m great! Man, I love alcohol.” His shoulder bumps into Mark’s, pushing Mark to the side. “I’m going to be so hung over tomorrow, but I don’t care. Fuck homework! I feel so alive right now!” He slams his hands down on the bar, the lights from behind the bar making his eyes bright and shiny like little glass bobbles.

Mark turns his head to the side because just when did Jackson get Christmas ornaments as eyes?

“Me too,” Mark parrots, “me too.” What time is it even? Mark finds his head tipping until his cheek bumps up against Jackson’s shoulder. His eyelids feel heavy, as do his limbs, fingers, and toes. He could sleep here with the lullaby of the top ten on the pop music charts crooning him to bed.

“Hey hey, don’t pass out.”

Someone slaps Mark’s back, forcing Mark to open his eyes. “’M tired,” Mark says, clenching his hands into fists. “Need to sleep.” The heavy weight in his stomach takes a turn with movement, souring his experience.

“Hey…don’t….I’m calling a taxi.”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

When Mark wakes up with eyelids near glued shut and not in his own bed, his heart pounds wildly until he realizes he’s at Jackson’s apartment in Jackson’s bed. Street noise filters in from the closed windows, car motors running, the 32 bus driving off from the corner stop with a familiar putt putting sound.

His bladder twinges, calling to him to get going and relieve it.

The bed sheets are pushed down to his thighs, there is dried crust around his mouth from drool, and head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Next to him, Jackson is curled up on his side with one hand under his pillow, eyes shut and still asleep.

Mark rolls over onto his back and yawns, stretching out with his ankles and toes. He rubs the sleep from his eyes to discover he’s wearing the same clothes as he had on last night. His memories from the night before are hazy at best. _I’m never drinking that much again_ , Mark thinks as his stomach twists for the worse.

Sitting up, Mark searches the room with his eyes to try and find a clock. The best thing he finds is Jackson’s phone sitting on his desk. Mark untangles himself from the bed sheets and stumbles his way over, pushing a button on Jackson’s phone to make the screen activate. Jackson’s phone displays the time as 9:51AM. Clearing his eyes for the second time, Mark decides he might as well stay awake now that he’s up.

His parents are probably wondering if he’s still alive since they weren’t exactly approving of Mark going out to bars where he could get in trouble. The impressive wine collection his parents have makes Mark not take either of them seriously on their frowning. They shouldn’t judge him for wanting to drink in college when they each have a glass of red in their hand.

Jerking upright, Mark pats down his pants pockets, horror driving through his heart like a stake when he can’t find his wallet or his phone. Did he lose them in one of the bars? He has his drivers license, medical cards, money, school ID, and every other bit of important information in there he can think of. Not to mention his phone has all the telephone numbers he needs because he only has his mom’s number committed to memory.

If he lost that, he’s doomed to stay at home until summer. Goodbye Jackson, hello working for his parents to pay for his stupidity. Mark says a quick prayer in hope of finding his things; however, he can’t remain optimistic.

He leans over and bangs his forehead against the desk with the dull thud of bone against wood.

Stupid – thud – dumb – thud – idiot – thud – can’t believe – thud – lost it.

A sleepy groan comes from the bed, causing Mark to stop hitting his head against Jackson’s desk. He turns his head enough to the side to peer at Jackson’s form on the bed with one eye.

Jackson rolls over, his face becoming visible, and scrunches his eyes, mouth wide open in a giant yawn. “Mark?” he says, voice heavy and raspy with sleep. “What’re you doin’?”

The need to pee surges back with a vengeance.

Mark speaks into the desk, “I’m hung over.”

“Me too. Fuck. I’ve got a headache from hell,” Jackson says, slapping his face with the palms of his hands. “Coffee. I need coffee.” He sits up, bed sheets falling off his legs onto the floor. “What time is it?”

“Ten…ish.” Mark closes his eyes. “I can’t find my wallet and phone.”

Jackson clears his throat with a loud hacking noise before speaking, “I think it’s in my pants pocket.”

“What?” Mark’s mind draws a blank.

“Yeah,” Jackson continues, “last night I remember you giving me all your stuff to hold onto. I think you were pretty gone by then.”

Cringing, Mark presses down on the desk with his head and lets his arms hand loose at this sides. He recalls almost everything that happened the last night with a healthy dose of excitement and shame. But, did he really have to lift up his shirt to prove a point to JB? When did that become a good idea?

Mark licks his lips, “Let’s never speak of last night again.”

“Okay.” Jackson yawns again with a deep inhale and exhale. “You want to use the toilet first?”

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

“Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?” Jinyoung says, flipping through the restaurant menu. They’re all crammed in a booth next to a window with the shades drawn all the way up to the top.

JB doesn’t look up from his menu, but then again, Mark can’t tell where his eyes are behind his dark shades. “The light hurts my eyes.”

To Mark’s right, Jackson groans, “Your arguing hurts my brain. Just choose something!” He points to something on the menu, “I’m going to get the blueberry pancake platter.”

“Does that come with sausage?” Jinyoung asks. “I want some greasy sausage.”

“It comes with a choice of sausage or bacon. Wait, why are you picking what I’m picking?”

Mark pours himself a cup of coffee; he already decided he’s getting an omelet with some fruit as a side. Breakfast restaurants always seem to have so many combinations of the same types of staples. There are always eggs, sausage, toast, waffles, potatoes, pancakes, and mountains of bacon. He’s not even sure he’s all that hungry, but the lure of butter and grease wafting down his nose overrides whatever his stomach is saying. His stomach doesn’t even know what it wants.

So, Mark thinks, this is what it feels like to go out for hangover food. He’s not really sure he should be out in public looking and feeling as he does, but as they always say, _yolo_.

“I’m not picking I’m just asking,” Jinyoung snaps back. “I’m going to get what I want. Hey,” – he turns his attention to JB – “what are you getting?”

“A waffle.”

“That’s so boring.”

“A waffle with bacon.”

“You know what would be great right now?” Jackson says. “Tacos. We should get tacos.”

Mark spies their waitress at the table next to them, “Breakfast first Jackson.”

“Okay, but we’re totally getting tacos.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to work on this sooner, but then rl and work happened. So yeah. Sorry about that, I will be finishing this crazy thing.  
> and after a recent come to jesus involving a friend, the er, and drinking too much, pls drink responsibly within your limit. as cool as it might sound as a story, no, just no.  
> and i was a dumbass and deleted the folder i kept the file i was writing this story in so goodbye to what i sort of wrote ahead. so yolo my friends, yolo. jesus is taking the wheel to finish this bad boy.


	16. Book 7:1

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

 

**MARK**

 

Mark stares at the papers he’s holding in his hands, the words _application_ and _admission_ sticking out in bold above all the fine print makes him nervous. He’s been dreading this moment, the inevitable time when his parents hand him the key to the grand future they’ve envisioned for him. Why is it so much easier to live for the present than it is for the future?

He skims over the boxes and requirements listed on the forms with growing discomfort. He’s going to have to fill all this out somehow and he thought getting into college once was hard enough. Now he’ll have to do this all over again.

The nagging thought of does he even want to do this strikes a chord inside him.

“There’s plenty of time to do the application Mark.” Mark’s mom sets down a bowl of sliced apples in front of him. “Dr. Park said he’d be happy to write you a recommendation. We just need to find you two more. I think we can get pastor John to write one, and you can ask one of your professors.”

Mark sets the papers down and puts a slice of apple in his mouth even though he’s not hungry. “Okay,” he says while chewing.

“Focus on your classes your dad and I will help you do the application.”

Just as they helped him write his application for the college he’s in currently. Mark might be good at writing about God and Jesus, but the honest truth is he’s not good at writing about much else. There’s a reason he failed English in high school, and not all of it was because he was more interested in playing basketball with his friends. Romeo and Juliet is a snoozefest that only Oliva Hussey’s naked breasts could improve his overall impression of the tale.

“Okay.” Now Mark’s eating the apple slices in front of him solely because they’re right there. For once in his life he’s offered a snack food and he’s not hungry enough to really enjoy it.

“What are you doing this weekend? Your dad and I were thinking of going out somewhere after his golf outing Saturday.”

Mark wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Homework, probably something with Jackson.”

“You and Jackson are out a lot lately.” Mark’s mom smiles, “Do you need any money?”

“Y-yeah we hang out with the other guys too.” Mark rubs his fingers against his shorts, his heart rate increasing.

“The two Korean students we’ve met?”

“Yeah, JB and Jinyoung. They’re over a lot too, so we all do stuff.” Mark fails to mention it’s usually JB and Jinyoung going off to hang out together while Mark and Jackson fool around in Jackson’s room with the radio on to block out any _noises_.

“I wonder what Jackson’s plans are after college…I should ask his mom next time I talk to her.”

Pursing his lips, Mark’s stomach drops. He hasn’t even thought about what the future might mean for him and Jackson. “I…don’t know.”

“I suppose he could do something with their business, he’s very talented. I should give his mom a call and see how they’re doing. Do you need anything before I go?” She rinses off the knife she’d been using in the sink and sets it in the dish drainer to dry.

Shaking his head, Mark gives his mom half a smile. “No.”

Mark’s mom slings her purse over her shoulder and picks up a set of car keys off the counter. “Okay well, I’m off to pick your brother and Bam Bam up from school.” She puts on her sunglasses as she’s stepping out of the kitchen. “Be back soon.”

“Okay, see you.”

Groaning, Mark leans back in his chair. He’s got so much more to worry about than just failing psychology. _Dear God, I’m in need of some guidance or whatever you can give me. Please give me the strength to see what I should do. Also, please give Jackson some guidance, and if you could do something about the huge amount of texts he sends me when I’m trying to relax it’s getting hard to keep up…_

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

J **ACKSON**

 

He’s got Mark right where he wants him, warm and snuggled on his bed with him, and an episode of the show they’ve been watching together playing on his laptop. Mark’s the little spoon to his big spoon, the sugar to his spice, the water to his dying thirst, and et cetera et cetera. Lying here with Mark is the best remedy to the double stress of school and fencing practice. The closer the date to the big fencing meet approaches, the more intense their practice has become.

Plus the pressure to perform and to perform well is a heavy weight against him. Aim for the top Jackson, get first place and you can reach new heights with your fencing and become a pro, go to the Olympics, get paid to play the sport. Or at the very least and the more down to earth option, continue with fencing beyond his college career.

He’s reached the age to know that reaching for your dreams is a more a fantasy than a reality.

Jackson shifts his weight around, resting the top of his chin on Mark’s shoulder. “Are you even watching?” He curls a hand around Mark’s waist along the jutting angle of Mark’s hipbone.

Mark has his cell phone in his hand; thumb flicking through whatever he’s seeing on the screen.

“…Yeah,” Mark says after a delayed pause.

Jackson snorts, breathing out deep onto Mark’s shirt. “Do you want to do something else?” He toys with the material beneath his fingertips at Mark’s hip. “We haven’t gotten together much this week…” Between Jackson’s fencing practice and their school schedules, they haven’t seen each other since Tuesday at lunch, and seeing how it’s Saturday afternoon it’s been almost four days. In the time apart, Jackson’s missed Mark letting him talk his ear off while they cuddled on the couch, or complained about their Korean class in front of JB together.

Well shit, Jackson thinks, he wonders when he started to become this needy towards Mark when Mark’s such a tough cookie to get a reaction from. Except when they would hold hands and Jackson could feel Mark’s pulse beat strong through his wrist. He’s pretty sure Jesus doesn’t have anything to do with his relationship with Mark even if Mark keeps moaning about taking him to church.

Mark hums, thumb still moving across his phone’s screen. “Sure.”

Taking the opening as an invitation, Jackson moves his hand down for a one armed hug, pressing up against Mark, who turns further over on his side. He slides his hand upwards until his fingertips brush the top of Mark’s nipple. “You’re quiet today.” Jackson peers part Mark’s shoulder to find that Mark’s dropped his cell phone on the side of the bed.

Mark’s hand touches his where it lay across his chest. “I am?”

“Yeah more than the usual. You let me talk for what, thirty minutes straight without telling me to shut up.”

“I don’t tell you to shut up,” Mark mumbles, his fingers lacing in between Jackson’s.

“So you give me that look that says Jackson you’re an idiot stop talking, same thing. Long week?” Jackson says before dropping his face down to nuzzle Mark’s shoulder. He drops a kiss to the spot that makes Mark give the tiniest of shivers.

Mark’s chest raises and falls beneath their hands. “Stressful. And long.”

“Mine’s been pretty shitty too thanks for asking,” Jackson says in a teasing manner. “Want me to take your mind off of it? We can watch this later.” Not like either of them have been watching much of the episode anyway. What with Mark staring at his phone and Jackson staring at Mark. He lowers his hand, taking Mark’s hand with him.

“What?” Mark shifts, turning his body back towards Jackson and forcing Jackson to turn with him. Jackson is able to get his other arm free before Mark rolls over to squash it underneath his back. “Oh.”

Jackson ignores the loud laugh track coming from his laptop to lower his hand down to the button holding Mark’s shorts together. He can feel his own dick stir in his loose shorts as he rubs his hand downwards, following the zipper’s path. “Can I?” It’s been even more days since they’ve last had time alone with each other.

A soft sigh spills from Mark’s lips and to Jackson’s surprise, he twists in his arms, throwing a leg over Jackson’s and planting his arms on either side of Jackson’s head.

Eyebrows rising, Jackson licks his lips, the sudden emergence of initiative in Mark turning him on. His eyes flick from Mark’s eyes to his mouth, “Is this a yes?” He rests a hand on Mark’s back to pull him in closer. Mark is warm and the thigh thrown over Jackson’s own is a welcome weight.

Mark doesn’t respond with words, but the gentle touch of his lips to Jackson’s provides all the answer he needs. Eyes sliding shut, Jackson brings the kiss deeper by drawing Mark in closer to him. The subtle heat from their joined lips is addicting, and Jackson wants to find out how much he can turn up the temperature. He plays with Mark’s lower lip, running his tongue over its smoothness, in hopes of seeing it swollen and red later. In turn, Mark grinds down on him, letting Jackson feel he’s not the only one excited.

Slowly, the friction Mark creates drives Jackson crazy, as its gradual flow is both a relief and a torture. Jackson breaks off the kiss, breathing heavily, and bucks his hips up because he wants more – no needs more – of this pleasurable friction against his dick.

His fingers tangle in Mark’s shirt, shoving the material up to reveal skin speckled with a series of tiny moles from the kiss of the sun’s bright rays. In particular, Jackson’s in love with the tiny mole above Mark’s lip.

Glancing up, Jackson views the tinge of pink across Mark’s cheekbones, the curl of his messy hair around his forehead, and the fullness of the lips Jackson knows he’s had a part in making. A short puff of air against Jackson’s face breaks Jackson’s concentration as Mark shifts over further on top of him and kisses him without a moment’s notice. Groaning into Mark’s mouth, Jackson wraps his arms around Mark’s waist, holding Mark in place.

To think that a few months ago Mark was sprouting Bible verses, okay he wasn’t sprouting Bible verses, but quiet church boy Mark wouldn’t bat an eyelash in Jackson’s general direction. Well, he did ridicule him for being so straight laced. But really, the summer Bible camp councilor look wasn’t doing him any favors and was only stifling his natural attractiveness.

His favorite Mark is the one lounging with him right now in a simple t-shirt and shorts.

Actually, maybe getting Mark to loosen up was a bad idea in hindsight since other people might think Mark’s available and he’s not. Mark breaks their kiss, lips disconnecting for the briefest moment before diving right back in, and Jackson thinks he should stop having a hypothetical crisis in the middle of trying to get Mark’s tongue in his mouth.

Jackson breathes in deep through his mouth and relaxes, melting into the taste and weight of Mark on him. His fingers rub into the smooth skin of Mark’s back, brushing past the fine soft hair tickling his fingertips. Jackson knows he’s wrong, a fool, and was an idiot at first, but the more he holds Mark like this the deeper he falls.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Cleaned up and feeling boneless, Mark sinks deeper into Jackson’s couch, feet resting in Jackson’s lap. Jackson is playing a video game with determined concentration across his brow, fingers flicking the buttons on his controller at a fast pace.

He curls his toes in, hearing the crack of several bones in sequence, and pats the couch with one hand absentmindedly. “Hey Jackson,” he says.

“Hmm?” Jackson responds, taking a quick glance over in Mark’s direction.

“What are you planning on doing after next year?” Mark drags his fingers along the couch. “After graduation.”

“Well…” Jackson squints, one corner of his mouth scrunching together. “I want to go back to Hong Kong for a while, hopefully do some work for my family and get some experience. What I really want is fencing, but I don’t know about that. You have to hit it big in sports. I mean, the right people have to see you at the right time. I’m a little old.”

Mark bites the inside of his cheek; Jackson wants to go back to Hong Kong, and he’ll be here in America probably at seminary school since that’s the best option he has. If Jackson is there and he’s here, then whatever they have will be something Mark’s not ready to think about yet.

“Old? I thought you have all those medals.”

Jackson lets out a laugh and shifts in his spot, jostling Marks feet. “Those are from back in Hong Kong, I haven’t been competing the same since I’ve come back to school in America.”

“You haven’t?” Mark tilts his head, he thought Jackson was sort of a big deal in fencing from what he’s heard by word of mouth.

“I took almost a year off with a muscle injury, it wasn’t a big deal, but lost time and college…I don’t know it’s different now than what it was,” Jackson says, ignoring his game and looking straight at Mark while talking. “I love it, I love fencing. It’s something I can’t give up.”

“Not easily,” Mark adds, biting his lip.

Jackson smiles. “Right. But I’ve got a whole year left for fencing so who knows. There’s always that chance.” He wags his eyebrows up and down. “I hit big with you, so must I have some luck in me.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have anything he can throw at Jackson within easy grabbing reach unless he wants to fall off the couch.

“What about you?”

Embarrassment floods through Mark, “I might, I might go to seminary school.”

“Seminary school? What’s that? Graduate school?” Jackson grabs a hold of Mark’s feet and gives them a light squeeze.

“Kind off yeah…it’s like more religious education. Theology and stuff…” Mark tries to explain, but he knows Jackson’s not too familiar with religion besides the mandatory theology or world religion general education course everyone has to take. “Yeah, it’s graduate school.” Mark’s really glad Jinyoung isn’t here because he’d probably point out that with his grades how could he even get into graduate school. Jinyoung can go stick his head in a toilet and flush.

“That sounds like you. Where?”

“It’s in the state.” _It’s nowhere near Hong Kong._

“Do you have to wear robes and stuff? And swear chastity for the rest of your life?” Jackson has a mild scared expression on his face, his eyes wide and darting over to Mark.

“No Jackson, you know I’m not Catholic.”

“Well _thank god_ for that. I don’t know how that would work at all.” He places a hand on his heart. “I was scared.”

Mark hits Jackson’s thigh with his heel, “Stupid. Didn’t you take any theology?” What was Jackson trying to make him out to be? A nun?

“Hey, I learned about religion years ago,” says Jackson, “give me a break.”

“Stupid.” Mark smiles, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. Whatever, he’ll think about that when he has too, and that time is not right now. Jackson going away to Hong Kong is a year away and he should just enjoy the time he has right now.

“And you’re smarter? You’re just as stupid as me.”

Mark sticks out his tongue.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**JACKSON**

 

“Everyone gather around first before we begin warming up,” their head coach called out as they were entering the practice gym. He waved them over with one hand, the other holding onto a clipboard full of papers.

Jackson shuffles in along with his teammates, shrugging his shoulders as his favorite sparring partner gave him a look in confusion. They gather in a semi circle around their coaches, waiting for whatever they have to say before they can start stretching and warming up their muscles.

“As you know, the big meet is coming up very soon. You’ve all been doing great, but I’ve heard word that there’s going to be several sponsors and club recruiters coming to watch the matches.” The silence in the gym is filled with the soft exclamations of those around him on the news. “If you haven’t yet been putting in your one hundred percent into practice now is the time to kick yourself in the ass and get working. Each and everyone of you has the potential to continue on, especially those of you who want to keep doing the sport.”

The coach’s words hit Jackson hard in the chest, and he feels the pressure of the coach’s strong stare straight on him as if he’s speaking directly to him. Jackson clenches his hands into fists.

“Our performance at the meet will also bring more interest into our school’s fencing program. We can get more funding for next year. The more recognition our fencing program has, the more opportunity we have for the future.” Their coach pauses and waves the clipboard in his hand, “I’ve got a new training regimen worked out for this week and next week. We’re going to focus on drilling out the weak points.”

Coach Kim, Yugyeom’s dad, steps forward, “Let’s all work hard to get the school to know just how good our fencing program is right?”

The team agrees back, nodding heads, raising voices, and clapping hands. Jackson grins and puts his hands on his hips; of course their fencing program is great. Their last few meets they’ve had have put their school in amongst the top standings for their region. If they have a good performance this time, they might get up at the top.

“Okay, everyone go warm up and then we’ll go over the training routines.” Their coach claps his hands and they all disperse.

Jackson unzips his jacket before finding a spot to stretch out his legs on the mats set up. Sponsors, fencing club recruiters, professionals in the sports industry coming to watch their college fencing tournament. A surge of energy fills him while he’s spreading his legs and shaking them out before slowly reaching forward towards his toes. He’s nervous at the prospect at being watched, but also excited to have someone in the industry see him at his best – and most vulnerable – moment.

He’s never thought he’d have a chance like this here in America, and even if it doesn’t go anywhere, he can say he’s at least tried. The spark of excitement has kindled a fire inside him that he’s let smolder for a very long time. Jackson wiggles his toes and moves to reach for the other foot.

He can’t wait to tell Mark about this, and he can’t wait to stand on that stage again wearing his school blazoned white uniform that’s representing more than his school pride.

 

 

M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

 

**MARK**

 

Having finished his homework for the night, Mark settles down on his bed with his television remote, having channel surfing in mind while lying comfortable on his bed. His phone buzzes next to him, interrupting his steady click of the channel up button. Jackson’s name pops up on his phone with a text asking if he has finished his Korean homework yet so they can compare answers. Luckily, Mark had finished the assignment mere minutes before Jackson’s text.

Mark writes Jackson back that he’ll send him a photo of his workbook soon – once he gets up the ambition enough to move. He spreads his legs out and stares at the open workbook on his desk wishing he had telekinetic powers to pull it towards him like a comic superhero. It’s not like his answers may be any more correct than what Jackson put down himself.

A sharp rap comes at his bedroom door even though he left the door halfway open instead of closing it after taking a bathroom run earlier.

“Hey Mark?” Bam Bam is at the door, leaning half inside Mark’s room. “Do you have a notebook?” He holds up a soggy waterlogged purple spiral bound notebook with one hand. “Mine is wet.”

It takes a moment for Mark’s brain to click together what Bam Bam is asking. “Um…yeah. I have some.” What he has is some old half used notebooks from the last semester. They’re not in the greatest shape, but still have more than enough sheets of blank paper left for what time is left in the school year. Mark’s not very good at taking notes, so why can’t all his professors upload their powerpoints?

He heaves himself off his bed to search in the dark abyss of his desk drawers where things go to die and never be seen again. Picking through the clutter, Mark pulls out his old chemistry notebook – praise be to God he’ll never need that again. Meanwhile, Bam Bam, who has entered his room rather than stand awkwardly at the door, hovers over his shoulder.

“Here,” – Mark hands over his old notebook – “you can keep it.” _Or burn it with fire_ , Mark thinks.

Bam Bam takes the notebook off his hands, “Thanks, my water bottle leaked?” He quirks his head to the side, “Yes leaked.”

“It happens,” Mark responds, shoving his crammed desk drawer shut.

“Oh,” Bam Bam pauses for a brief second; “Jackson and Yugyeom invited me to their fencing meet. Are you going? I want to see this fencing sport.” He fans his wet notebook in the air next to him.

Leaning up against his desk, Mark crosses his arms, “Yeah. It’s…next week?” Mark realizes he’s horrible for forgetting the exact date of the event when Jackson’s been talking about it for so long. He did write the details down somewhere on a sheet of paper. He’s been stressing about his own future problems so much that he’s not been keeping track of the present.

“It’s…” Bam Bam trails off, “next weekend. Can you take me?” He tilts his head to the side and Mark feels like he’s being manipulated by how wide Bam Bam has made his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Mark uncrosses his arms, “I’ll find out when to go.” He’s always stuck being Bam Bam’s babysitter.

“Ok, I will make the cheer banner.” Bam Bam says with a big smile on his face.

From the glimmer in Bam Bam’s eyes, Mark knows only embarrassment is going to come his way next weekend. However, a little voice telling him to let the foreign exchange kid have his fun breaks his bout of negativity. Mark did promise Jackson cheering, so at least he’ll have a buddy there with him.

Though, can you cheer at a fencing meet, or will that break their concentration? This isn’t basketball or football, and Mark has no idea how this works. One thing is for sure, Mark knows nothing about fencing and what he does know involves choreographed swordfight scenes on TV.

One final thanks falls from Bam Bam’s lips before he slips out of Mark’s room, taking Mark’s old chemistry notebook at his ruined notebook with him. Biting his lower lip, Mark rolls his desk chair towards him, reaches to pick up his phone off his bed, and opens up his Korean workbook. On the subject of Jackson, there is something important that he has to do.


End file.
